The Two Inquisitors
by Lover of Video Games
Summary: Follows the story of Dragon Age: Inquisition, with one major twist: there are two Inquisitors. What is the world to make of this unlikely pair? Join them on their adventures throughout Ferelden and Orlais, fighting evil, forming friendships, falling in love, and experiencing far too much excrement for one lifetime. Swears, sass, gore, mentions of self-harm, etc. You've been warned.
1. Chapter 1: Haven

**AN: Hey, all; LoVG here with another Dragon Age fic! I've put out two previous stories in this category - check 'em out if you like this writing style - and now there's this thing. I've been co-writing it with a very good friend of mine, and we think it's pretty awesome. We've already got a good portion of it written, and we'll be updating once or twice a week. I'll just say right now that not _every_ _single detail_ is 100% accurate to the story of Inquisition, but with such a huge and complex game, I hope you weren't expecting flawless dialogue accuracy. We've tried our best to recreate scenes as they happen, for the most part.**

 **Quick copyright stuff: the Dragon Age franchise and all affiliated works are owned by BioWare and Electronic Arts. We claim ownership of none of the world, story, or characters (except the ones we have created).**

 **But that's enough of that. Enjoy the fic!**

Agronaak Qun'Maloc awoke in a cell with a sudden sense of overwhelming dread. He instinctively reached out, only to find his hands manacled to the ground. He tested the chains and found they were well made. He cursed loudly and pulled at his chains, his dark grey and purple skin straining against the metal as he howled at the empty cell around him. A door opened at the far end of the cell and a bright light flooded in, followed shortly by the sound of heavy footsteps. Agronaak blinked several times and looked up to see a woman with black hair and dark brown eyes in red and black plate mail standing over him with a disgusted expression on her face.

"You. Qunari." She barked in a Nevarran accent. "Explain yourself."

"I have nothing to explain." Agronaak said bluntly, fixing her with his empty grey eyes.

"Liar!" She yelled, hitting him with the back of her hand. His head moved back from the force of the blow but quickly snapped back to its original position as he glared at her angrily. "Explain. Now. What were you doing at the Conclave? What did you do to Divine Justinia?"

"I do not know what has occurred." He intoned. "Would you inform me?" The woman scowled at him.

"The Temple of Sacred Ashes on top of the mountain has been destroyed. Thousands have died, the very sky has been torn apart, and you are going to tell me you don't know anything about it?" The woman snapped.

"No." Agronaak said, maintaining his steely exterior. "Tell me of this… tear… in the sky."

"I don't have to tell you anything!" She snarled.

"And yet you will." Agronaak stated. "You hope that by telling me, I may regain my memory, and yet provided some insight." The woman scowled at him.

"The tear in the sky has been… spewing out demons and spirits. And not at all the benign sort. They've been attacking everywhere. And more rifts have been opening. Smaller ones." She explained, albeit reluctantly.

"And you believe I had something to do with that." Agronaak said with a put-upon sigh. "Humans. Always blaming everything on the first Qunari you can find. Of course, if there aren't any, I suppose an elf could do." The woman looked as though she were about to speak, but simply broke off into a muttered curse in Nevarran.

"You had something to do with this." She insisted. "I know it."

"And what of you, Seeker?" He asked. "What is your role in this?" The woman froze.

"How did you know that I am a Seeker?" She asked warily.

"The blazing sun on your armor might give it away." He replied. "All those who follow the Qun make a point to know their enemies, and the Seekers are among them." The Seeker started to speak again but was cut off when the door burst open again. A man in plain chainmail stood in the door.

"Seeker Cassandra!" He said urgently. "The elf is awake!"

"Bring him here." The Seeker ordered. The man nodded and walked out of sight for a moment, returning a few moments later with another soldier, the two of them holding a wriggling elf with honey blond hair between them.

"Let me go, you uncultured Ferelden brutes!" The elf yelled in an Orlesian accent. "You both smell like wet dogs!"

"Silence!" Cassandra yelled. "You two will explain your involvement. This _instant_!"

"I love it when they're commanding." The elf snarked. One of the guards stifled a chuckle.

Agronaak felt a slow smile creeping across his face. "I like, you, elf. But Seeker," he said, turning to Cassandra, "I've never seen him before in my life."

"But… that's impossible…" Cassandra said, faltering for a moment. "Your hands, of course! hold up your arms!"

"This is some strange kink you've got here, Seeker…" The elf muttered, holding up his arms and letting the sleeves fall down. His right hand had a glowing green mark on it that appeared to be etched into the very flesh.

At the sight of it, Agronaak felt a strange tingle in his left hand. He held up his own arm curiously, and was astounded to find a mark almost exactly like the elf's, though it appeared to be a mirror image rather than an exact copy, emblazoned into his palm. "But…" He faltered. He could not believe his eyes, could not explain this occurrence.

"Do you see?" Cassandra asked rhetorically, a manic look in her eyes. "You must know each other! You must have met! You must have been doing _something_ at the Conclave!"

"Last I remember, the only thing I did at the Conclave was this mage from the Free Marches…" The elf trailed off, smiling faintly. "Bit loose, but that's beside the point."

Agronaak shook his head. "Conclave… as associated with the Chantry? Hell, Seeker, what would a Qunari be doing at that…?" He paused for just a moment. "No… I remember… a bodyguard? Was I paid to do something at the Conclave? Urgh, no matter; Seeker, I swear to you this elf has no place in my memory. And yet..."

"Then perhaps there was another plot!" Cassandra insisted. "Someone else could have set this up. You, Qunari! You said you were paid. Qunari are often hired as mercenaries. As killers." She said the last word contemptuously, as if she hated to even utter it.

"Touchy subject, I see…" The elf muttered. Cassandra turned on him and hit him across the brow with the back of her hand. He crashed down to the floor and quickly stood back up. "Cat likes to scratch, I see." Cassandra's retort was cut off by a cry of distress from outside.

"Oh, Maker…" She muttered, unsheathing her sword and running to the door. She looked as though she were deep in thought for a moment before she turned back. "Guards, release the Qunari."

"But Seeker, we don't-" One started to say.

"Do as I command!" She snapped. The guard nodded and walked over to Agronaak with a key in hand, carefully unlocking the manacles around his wrists.

Agronaak sighed, closing his eyes and flexing his newly freed wrists. He then abruptly stood up, shoving the guard who'd freed him to the side. "Thank you… I suppose. But what do you want with me now? And is there some reason you're leaving the elf behind?"

"I have need of your…" Cassandra looked at him a bit strangely, "talents. The elf has none, it would seem."

The elf sighed and held up his pair of manacles, which had been expertly unlocked. "Don't be so rude, Seeker." He said, mock-pouting. Cassandra glared at him and walked out the door, gesturing for them to follow. Agronaak gave the elf a sideways glance before chuckling to himself and falling in step behind the Seeker.

"What's your name?" The elf asked, practically skipping along the narrow cobblestone roads of the town of Haven.

"Be quiet!" Cassandra snapped.

"Might as well tell a fish not to swim." The elf retorted.

Cassandra was about to spout something furious, but Agronaak cut her off. "Oh please, Seeker, you waste so much energy being angry as you are. What annoyance have you with names?" He looked to the elf. "Agronaak Qun'Maloc, friend. It seems we have much to discuss. But I need _your_ name first."

"Zarihn Du Rien, at your service." The elf said, bowing deeply. Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Don't act like you don't love this, Seeker." Zarihn teased.

"I don't." She said.

"Well, you'd better learn to." Zarihn said dryly.

"I have a feeling the two of you will end up either killing each other or screwing before the week is out." Agronaak said casually.

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, Agronaak." Zarihn chided. "Why can't it be both?" Cassandra snorted with laughter despite herself, but quickly regained her composure. "Assuming we live so long…"

The group approached a bridge just outside Haven where a battalion of soldiers was engaged in heated battle with a pair of demons. Cassandra scowled and readied her sword, charging at the demons.

"Probably not the best idea…" Zarihn muttered, following her reluctantly onto the bridge.

Agronaak continued behind the two. He heard the shrieking, saw the incoming flaming rock too late; just as he was about to pivot round and make a leap for solid ground, the projectile smashed into the bridge and it collapsed beneath them, crushing the soldiers under the rubble but leaving the trio on top. Zarihn brushed a speck of dust off his shirt and frowned.

"Oh, it's going to take for _ever_ to clean this." He griped. "This was my one good shirt!"

Cassandra burst out of the rubble and scowled at him. Before she speak, a pair of shades approached the wrecked bridge, advancing slowly on them. Zarihn looked back at them and started quickly looking through the rubble for some sort of weapon. Cassandra readied her sword and hefted her shield.

"Maker preserve me." She said to herself, charging at the shades recklessly.

"Pious prat…" Zarihn muttered, finally giving up his search for a weapon and turning back around to pull the dagger off of Cassandra's hip. He twirled it experimentally. "This'll do." He turned to the other shade and waved with a mocking friendly expression before slashing at its ghostly torso with the dagger.

Agronaak groaned, sitting up and shaking his head. He saw Cassandra and Zarihn fighting a few yards off, and suddenly realized he was being a complete waste of muscle. He shot to his feet, looking for something he could feasibly wield. He eventually settled on a sword from one of the soldiers' corpses, sticking out slightly from beneath the rubble. A bit small, but then, so was its previous owner; it'd have to do. Gripping it tightly, he rushed into the fray, leaping upon Cassandra's shade and plunging his blade into the not-all-there flesh of the demon. Cassandra looked up at him, startled and trying to hide the fact that she was impressed with him. Zarihn walked over to the now-collapsing shade and frowned.

"No aid for the elf?" He asked, gesturing to himself and the dessicated remains of the shade.

"It didn't appear that you needed any." Cassandra said. "And besides, I wouldn't exactly miss you."

"Well now you're just flirting." Zarihn said with a mocking wink. Cassandra grimaced and shuddered.

"The dagger, elf." She said, holding out her hand.

"I need to defend myself, don't I?" Zarihn asked defensively.

"But not with _my_ dagger." Cassandra snapped.

"I'd use my dagger, but I think I'll just save that for you." He replied teasingly. Cassandra opened her mouth to speak, but then realized the true meaning of his words and fell silent.

Agronaak whistled. "Well then. Was I right or not? I think it's safe to say my words were accurate." He smiled at his own joke.

"Cease talking!" Cassandra snapped at him, walking off across the valley they had landed in. Zarihn looked after her and crouched down, a smirk spreading across his face.

"I bet the back is _so_ much better without the armor." He mused, walking after Cassandra and making sure he stayed behind her. Agronaak clinically observed the object in question and found himself in agreement.

After a great deal more of fighting and ogling and Zarihn whining about his precious shirt, the trio climbed out of the valley and onto a narrow walkway. A fairly tall, thin, and bald elf with a staff in his hand stood at the near end, sustaining a sort of shield around a rather flamboyantly dressed dwarf holding a crossbow as big as he was. The dwarf fired a bolt off and sent a shade back through the Veil.

"Gotta love you, Bianca!" The dwarf said, apparently to his crossbow.

"It's an inanimate object. It can't hear you." The elf informed him.

"Please don't take a crossbow to bed." Zarihn begged the dwarf as he approached. "I hear they always run out the morning after." The dwarf turned to him and laughed.

"Not my Bianca. She always sticks around for breakfast." He replied. "Varric Tethras, at your disservice."

"Quite an introduction, dwarf." The elf said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I am Solas. Nothing else."

"Well then Varric, Baldy, it's a pleasure to meet you." Zarihn said. "I am Zarihn Du Rien."

Varric turned to Agronaak, striding up a little ways behind Zarihn and Cassandra. He raised an eyebrow. "And a Qunari, too, huh? You, Seeker, have assembled quite a party here. What's your name, big fella?"

"Agronaak Qun'Maloc," he said simply. "Such a lengthy introduction... Varric. Normally not a problem, but there's a crisis underway, it'd seem. Love to chat over a beer about that crossbow of yours, but now let's simply see what it can do to demons." He turned to Solas. "You, elf, what is the situation?"

"The rift appears to be spilling demons across the local area. More rifts have been seen throughout Orlais and Ferelden. We have to close this rift before it spreads. I, for one, do not wish to see my home destroyed. And if you think the same, then I suggest you follow me." Solas explained, turning on his heel and striding across the walkway.

Cassandra grabbed Zarihn's arm and dragged him after Solas. "Calm down, Seeker!" Zarihn said, flailing his arms for dramatic effect. "Save the rough stuff for the bedroom." Varric laughed and followed them, loading another bolt into his crossbow.

After a great deal more of fighting and bantering about crossbows that may have been mostly innuendo, the party reached a foothold set up by Sister Leliana, another Seeker of the Chantry. At present, she stood at the edge of a long bridge, looking up at the rift in the sky while an Orlesian man in dark yellow robes talked to her. Or, rather, at her.

"Seeker, we must withdraw!" The man insisted. "There is no way to retake the temple!"

"That is where you are wrong, Ambassador." Leliana said, brushing a strand of fiery red hair out of her eyes. "We _will_ retake the temple. And we _will_ close the rift. The Maker shall guide us." The Ambassador snorted and walked off, shoving past Zarihn angrily.

"Bundle of laughs, he is…" Zarihn muttered, walking over to Leliana. Zarihn opened his mouth to address her, but Cassandra, as was her way, interrupted.

"Sister Leliana." She said, bowing.

"Sister Cassandra." Leliana replied, never taking her eyes off the ruins. "I see you brought the captives. As well as that… flighty little dwarf…"

"The 'flighty little dwarf' has a name, you know." Varric chimed in.

"Of, course, Varric." Leliana said, rolling her eyes at him. Cassandra ignored the banter and continued.

"What is the current situation?" She asked, fixing her gaze on the rift.

"Morale is low. As are our troops." Leliana informed her. "But with the prisoners here, then we might be able to close the rift. At least temporarily."

"Oh great…" Zarihn muttered. "I so love being used like this…" The Seekers kept ignoring him.

"Are you prepared for the attack?" Leliana asked Zarihn and Agronaak.

"Usually I have a cheap woman and a drink before a fight, but I suppose Seeker Cassandra will do." Zarihn said. Cassandra glared at him and Agronaak chuckled dryly.

"I too am prepared." He said, adjusting his grip on his sword. "When shall we attack?"

"As soon as we are all able." Leliana said, looking to the battered battalion of soldiers that remained to them.

"The prisoners should lead the way." Cassandra advised. "Their marks are our greatest boon in this battle."

"Sorry, but do the prisoners have any say in this?" Zarihn asked.

"No." Leliana and Cassandra said at the same time.

" _So_ glad I'm getting treated right, thanks…" He muttered.

Cassandra scowled again and walked towards the end of the bridge with a rather reluctant Zarihn close behind her. Agronaak and Solas fell in step, but Varric stayed off to the side, taking practice shots with Bianca. The soldiers gathered up the precious few scraps of courage that they barely clung to and followed Cassandra up the snow covered mountainside to the ruined Temple of Sacred Ashes. Shades and demons of rage appeared before them once they reached the temple, and the soldiers fought with bravery, considering their situation. Cassandra hewed shades apart with her sword, trying to keep her eyes on Zarihn as he darted around the battlefield, a mismatched pair of daggers in his hands. Agronaak bellowed and charged at a rage demon, his sword sinking into its fiery shell as it collapsed into a puddle of molten lava on the ground. Solas hefted his staff and a pulse of electricity came forth from it, blasting a group of shades into nothingness.

Agronaak wiped a bit of sweat off his brow once the fighting had settled down. "A great number of demons we fight today, to be sure."

Cassandra glanced back at him. "Indeed. How astute. Let us move on."

"Oh, yeah… there's a lot of demons to fight…" Zarihn trailed off, feigning deep thought. "I wonder what could have made you realize that…"

"Could it be the impending demon horde of doom?" Varric asked. "No, couldn't be." Agronaak felt a sudden urge to punt them both off the mountainside.

Solas rolled his eyes and walked further into the temple. "Come. There is much to be done, and no time can be spent frivolously."

Descending into the temple, Agronaak's words were continuously proven true; it seemed as though one could move ten feet without another demon rounding a corner or rising up through the floor. This particular demon was over fifteen feet tall and was mottled black and grey, and had a set of black horns protruding from its skull. It had rather rudely erupted from a portal located in a central chamber of the temple or, rather, what was left of the temple, in front of a very large crystal. Something told him they were directly under the rift. The chamber was lined with red crystals protruding from all the walls, and it seemed as if the crystals almost… called out to them.

"Red lyrium…" Varric muttered, looking upon the crystals with terror. He shook his head and resumed his usual manner.

"And to think that I could be sitting in Val Royeaux with a tavern wench right now…" Zarihn said, sighing and twirling his daggers. Varric took aim at the demon and grinned.

"Oh, lighten up, Blondie." He said. "At least you can tell the story of how you killed a thousand demons on top of a mountain to the next tavern wench you meet."

"Oh, do shut up and get on with it!" Cassandra snapped at them both, striding purposefully towards the demon, poised to attack.

Solas' face grew concerned. "Cassandra, perhaps it would be wise to plan some course of action before engaging the-" His words were interrupted by a tremendous boom as the Seeker leapt out of the way of the massive creature's descending fist.

"Well that's just rude!" Zarihn exclaimed, running up to the demon and leaping onto its forearm, sinking his blades into its flesh. The demon let out an unearthly screech and shook his arm in an attempt to get the elf off. Varric took aim again and fired a bolt between the demon's eyes, sending it stumbling backwards. Solas frowned and twirled his staff, emblazoning a glowing blue rune on the ground behind the demon. As it moved back, Zarihn leapt off its arm, landing at a safe distance before it fell into the trap, sending a blast of arcane energy through its twisted body.

Agronaak dashed full-force into the fray, building up such momentum that he was able to leap up and shoulder check the demon. Of course he could not reach the creature's chest, but he was able to buckle its left knee, sending it crashing down onto the right one. Cassandra ran up and drove her sword through the demon's opposite knee, leaving it to fall onto its back. Zarihn picked himself up off the ground and ran to the collapsed creature, flipping his blades in the air and stabbing them down into its head. The creature bellowed again and thrashed before it lay still, slowly sinking away into nothing.

"Hell of a fight..." Varric muttered. "Now, what might we do about... You know..." He gestured upwards.

"No, I thought we'd just leave it." Zarihn said, maintaining his dry sense of humor.

"It's going to be murder by the end of the week." Solas whispered to Agronaak.

"I have no doubt about that. The question is, at this point, by whose hand?" the Qunari whispered back, smiling slightly.

"Somehow I believe the Orlesian's hands will be doing something other than killing…" Solas pointed out, gesturing to Cassandra.

Agronaak raised an amused eyebrow at the mage. "How tawdry. Wherever might you have gotten that idea?"

"Haven't the faintest inkling."

Cassandra's harsh commands snapped the two out of their conversation. "Our priority right now is to get. This. Rift. Closed. There will be time for joking later, but now we must focus on the task at hand." Agronaak nodded, but Zarihn, of course, was not so easily ordered.

"You just want to suck the joy out of everything." Zarihn said, rolling up his right sleeve.

"Blondie, if you had your way, I think it wouldn't just be joy she's sucking out of you." Varric added.

Zarihn smirked and looked up at the rift, clenching and unclenching his fist. "Ready, Agronaak?" He asked, steeling himself for the task ahead.

Agronaak grunted in affirmation, striding up to look at the rift, the crystal, and the smaller portal through which the demon had come. Gazing at it like this sent more strange electricity through his left arm, pooling in his palm. "So do I just..." He thrust his hand out.

Evidently, it was the right thing to do; immediately an arc of green lightning exploded forth from his hand, shooting at the portal. An awful burning sensation raced through the Qunari's entire being, centered, of course, in his palm, and he suddenly found it hard to remain upright with the energy coursing through him. Zarihn raised his right hand and an identical arc erupted from his hand, striking the portal and causing a small explosion in it. He winced as the pain in his arm spread, enveloping him and burning him to the very core. Zarihn clenched his fist and pulled it back, ripping away a part of the portal. After only a few agonizing moments, the portal collapsed in on itself, and with it, the rift in the sky above. Zarihn stumbled back and grabbed his right hand with his left.

"If this story doesn't work on the wenches…" He muttered to himself, collapsing in a heap on the ground. Cassandra ran over to him to see if he was still breathing which, met with a few mixed emotions from everyone, he was.

Agronaak collapsed onto one knee, the pain gone but feeling completely drained. "At least... I don't have to listen to Zahrin for a while..." he muttered, as his body began to tilt forward and he felt the darkness envelop him.


	2. Chapter 2: The New Inquisition

**AN: Bonus second chapter! Woo! I think it WILL normally only be one chapter a week, probably every Friday, but I was so excited to share this thing with everyone that you get two. YAY! Enjoy!**

Zarihn slowly awoke in an unfamiliar bed, surrounded by an unfamiliar scent of smoked meat and stale ale. "Not another tavern…" He groaned, his memory escaping him for a moment. His eyes widened in horror as he remembered the explosion at the Conclave, and the Breach, and the Mark, and Agronaak… of course, none of this came to his mind at first. Zarihn's initial thought was Cassandra's exquisite backside and how attractive she was, but then came the horror. "Where the fuck am I?" He asked no one in particular, stumbling out of the bed he lay in and falling onto the floor. "Damned floor needs to watch where it's going…" Zarihn muttered, struggling to his feet and looking around. He was standing in a cabin of sorts, full of alchemical supplies and herbs, with a blazing fire against one wall. Across from him was another bed, and in it was Agronaak, sleeping fitfully and tossing around. "Well, the early bird…" Zarihn started to say. He felt his stomach lurch suddenly ran to a bucket in a corner to vomit. "...Gets to be horribly ill."

A groan resounded from behind him, and the elf turned around to see Agronaak's form shift on his bed. The large Qunari made several more noises, mostly grunts, as he slowly pulled himself upright. His breathing was heavy, as though even that motion had tired him somewhat; clearly the ordeal had also taken a lot out of him. Pausing for a moment to clear his head, Agronaak's eyes slowly drifted around the room to get his bearings. Seeing Zarihn in the corner, he nodded his head in recognition, and then stood up. Immediately he regretted such a sudden motion; he was overcome with nausea and crossed the small room in a single bound, pushing Zarihn off to the side as he unloaded the contents of his own stomach into the bucket. "Urgh…" he mumbled. "It is useful this is here."

"Good morning to you too, sunshine." Zarihn said, maintaining his false air of happiness. "Glad to see you're still breathing." Before Agronaak could reply, the door to the cabin burst open and a young elf woman carrying firewood walked in. Upon seeing the pair of them, she dropped the wood and fell to her knees, lowering her head in a sign of reverence.

"Most holy Heralds of Andraste, you bid me great honor to stand in your presence." She said nervously.

"Mostly the girls just try to flirt…" Zarihn muttered, a confused expression crossing his face. "What's all this 'Herald of Andraste' business?"

"Forgive me, milord, but it's all anyone had been talking about for the last three days while you were asleep." The woman told him. "You two are Heralds, sent by our most holy mother Andraste to aid us in our time of need."

Agronaak frowned. "Andraste? Hardly. I am bound by the Qun, elf. It would be a twist of fate indeed to be sent by a figure from a faith I am not a part of. Who began these tales of Heraldry?"

Gazing up at his seven feet of muscle, the elf girl gave a small yelp and looked down at the floor. "F-forgive me again, milord, I don't rightly know that. But all I knows is, is that you two closed the rift and saved us and that's a mighty achievement, it is. Lots of people are members of the Chantry, milord…"

"Ugh… Chantry…" Zarihn muttered, grimacing. "I've prayed to your Maker a lot of times, miss. And you know what I got? Nothing. Run along, now. Leave us be."

"B-before I go, Seeker Pentaghast wished to see you. Both of you." She said, standing back up and averted her gaze before scurrying out of the cabin.

"Can we never get any peace?" Zarihn asked with a sigh.

Agronaak smirked. "It seems not. I suppose we should go see what the Seeker wants… though I do long for a change of clothes. I can smell myself."

"I think they can smell you clear across Ferelden." Zarihn quipped, walking towards the door. "And since the entire country smells like wet dog, I would say that's quite the accomplishment."

"You wound me, sir." the Qunari retorted, following suit.

"Sir? Now that is quite the insult." Zarihn scoffed, opening the door and stepping out into the blinding sunlight. A slight chill was in the air, sending a slight shiver down Agronaak's spine; his current clothing did not have much in the way of padding. The ground was currently mostly solid, but the soil seemed to be of a good strain. As the pair of newly christened "Heralds" walked through the town towards the large, very obvious keep in the distance, Agronaak took notice of all the people, just ordinary people, milling about, and they took notice of him as well. Murmurs immediately began to spring up amongst the individual groups of people. He overheard a few of the words: "Heralds of Andraste…" "Closed the rift, they did…" "So bloody tall, that one is…" "That elf talked to me earlier… snarky little shit…"

It was sort of surreal. People whispering about him was nothing new, being the ox-man he was, but never before had they looked on him with respect and awe, rather than distrust or revulsion. Zarihn looked around with an equally confused expression. Everywhere he had gone before, people had always disregarded him, or even if they paid attention, it was to spit on him or yell at him. It felt… different, but not in a bad way, to have these people paying him attention. He stood a little taller and walked to the keep, pushing open the doors and walking to a sort of meeting room, where Cassandra was arguing with the Chantry ambassador.

"I'll drag them both back to Val Royeaux with me!" The ambassador yelled. "They failed to close the Breach, and somehow they still live! This is far too much to be a coincidence!"

"Ambassador, I do not care what you think, if you can even call your harebrained ideas intelligent thought!" Cassandra shot back. "I believe they are innocent and, like it or not, they are our best chance of closing the Breach permanently!"

"I see the fun started without me." Zarihn said as he walked in, a sly grin on his face.

"I heard something about taking me to Val Royeaux," Agronaak said. "I'll stop all further discussion along those lines right now by guaranteeing that you will not be taking me anywhere I don't want to be, Chantry fool." He glared directly at the ambassador, who was trying not to wither beneath his gaze. "I just thought you might like to know." The ambassador stammered for a moment and tried to hide the wet spot that suddenly appeared between his legs.

"G-guards! Seize them!" He ordered.

"Belay that!" Cassandra countermanded. The guards stood down.

"What are you doing?" The ambassador demanded. "I have the authority here, not some smart-mouthed Seeker!"

"Not anymore." Cassandra stated, dropping a heavy tome on the table. "I am reinstating the Inquisition, as per the final orders of Divine Justinia the Fifth."

Leliana stepped from the shadows and approached the table. "We will rebuild the Inquisition. Your approval makes no difference." She said.

"Now, if you're through making pointless demands and half-assed suggestions, I suggest you leave." Zarihn said, managing to look quite intimidating for someone his size. The ambassador let out a frustrated scream and stormed out of the keep.

"That went well." Cassandra said dryly.

"What now?" Leliana asked anxiously. "We have no leader, no soldiers, and now, no Chantry support!"

"Not to point fingers, but it was your idea…" Zarihn pointed out.

"That could have been handled better by all involved parties," Agronaak murmured. "Why did the ambassador wish to take us away? We have hardly expressed devious intent; in fact, we closed the main object of everyone's distress. Perhaps one should talk to us, instead of interrogating us while we're bound, or simply assuming we are not to be trusted."

"Oh, they won't do that." Zarihn said. "They're people. And, like people always do, they will treat an unknown object or person with a detached feeling of resentment instead of following whatever the logical course of action may be."

"That was… surprisingly prophetic…" Cassandra said, looking somewhat impressed.

"No matter, really. It is already done. There is no point in dwelling," Agronaak said. "Now, tell me…" he gestured to the tome on the table, "You mentioned an Inquisition. Explain to me what this organization is, and why the ambassador was so distressed at its mention."

"The Inquisition was founded in the days before the Chantry, when the world was in chaos, and many thousands worshipped false gods." Cassandra told him. Agronaak snorted derisively at this."The Inquisition sought to bring order and peace to Thedas, by both the sword and the spoken word. They succeeded to a degree, and brought an end to the chaos. They disbanded to form the Templar Order, but the Templars have long since lost their way. We must rebuild the Inquisition of old, and bring order to Thedas once again."

"Brilliant." Zarihn said, rolling his eyes subtly. "I'm all for saving the world and everyone in it, but in case you haven't noticed, there's an army of demons out there. And we have about what? A few hundred conscripts? We need an entire kingdom if we even want a chance at winning this fight."

"Then that's what we'll get." Leliana stated. "We'll start small, and make a name for ourselves and our new Inquisition. Then, when the time comes, we'll make this world into what it once was."

"And there's the famous Chantry melodrama." Zarihn snarked. "But in all seriousness…" He trailed off, remaining quiet for a long while. "I'm with you on this. All the way."

"A refreshing change of attitude." Cassandra said, giving up and just looking… pleased, of all things.

Cassandra and Leliana turned toward Agronaak, waiting to hear what he had to say. The Qunari raised an eyebrow. "What do you take me for? I am too deeply embroiled in this all now to get out even if I wanted to. It's not as though I have anywhere else to go." He grinned slightly. "And besides, what idiot runs away from a chance to... I suppose it's save the world, right? Always is. I'm in for the long haul."

"I suppose that's it, then?" Zarihn asked, sighing. "Oh, there's such a sense of finality to it, isn't there?"

"And why would there not be?" Leliana inquired. Zarihn closed his eyes for a moment and sighed again.

"I don't suppose there's any coming back from this?" He asked solemnly.

"Probably not, no." Cassandra said bluntly.

"Ah, that brutal honesty…" Zarihn said, feigning as though he had been stabbed. "Hit me right here." Leliana ignored him and kept on.

"Our first order of business to mobilize our troops and call together our new council. There are a few other members you have yet to meet." She said.

"If they're as lovely as you two, I'll have no problem." Zarihn replied, switching from sarcasm to flirting in just a few seconds. Certainly a strange fellow, to be sure.

"Well, let's meet them, then," Agronaak said. "I do not suppose they're hidden round the corner, poised to spring when dramatically appropriate?" Cassandra was about to say something in response, but faltered. Sighing, she called for the council members to come round the corner.

Knight-Commander Cullen walked into the meeting room a moment later, adjusting his ridiculous fur cloak with one hand while resting the other on the pommel of his sword. A woman with long black hair and olive skin stood next to him in a long blue and gold silk dress with ruffled sleeves. She carried under her left arm a very large rolled up map.

"Heralds, these are your advisors. Knight-Commander Cullen, whom I believe you already know, and Josephine Montilyet." Leliana informed them.

"A pleasure to meet you both." Zarihn said, suddenly all charm. "Apparently I wasn't wrong about the loveliness."

"Even Cullen?" Leliana asked, shocked. Zarihn nodded and arched an eyebrow at the Knight-Commander. The poor sap suddenly looked very uncomfortable. He seemed about to say something, but then rethought his words.

"Ahem, anyway, yes," he said. "Cullen. And of course I know both of your names; who doesn't, at this point?" He turned to Agronaak. "You, sir, are even bigger than they said you were."

Agronaak sighed. "Oh, is that so? I'm tall? Really? REALLY? I had never noticed that I was a large man until you oh-so-kindly pointed it out. Think for two seconds, please." The Knight-Commander lowered his head, and Agronaak felt a stab of guilt. Zarihn stopped laughing for a moment and walked over to him, looking slightly concerned. "But, erm, it is not so bad. My apologies for the shortness of my temper. We've all not had an easy time of it these last few days, I'm sure." At this, Cullen perked up a little bit.

Josephine cleared her throat. "If we might proceed, gentlemen…" She chided, walking over to the table and laying a map of Ferelden and Orlais down on it. "I have recently received word from Arl Eamon Guerrin of Redcliffe that a band of apostates had taken up residence in the woods surrounding Redcliffe. A small army of Templars has intercepted them, and they are fighting with the common folk caught in the middle. A Chantry cleric named Mother Giselle has been caught in the fray, and if we were to rescue her it would provide us with a voice in the Chantry."

"This is excellent…" Zarihn muttered, scratching at the stubble on his chin. The advisors all gave him a strange look. "For us, I mean." He walked over to the map, pointing out the Ferelden Hinterlands near Redcliffe. "If we send our troops in, we could stop the fighting and take care of both sides. The people would no doubt be grateful, and we could recruit some to our cause. Those who cannot or will not join us will doubtlessly spread word of our exploits." Cassandra and the advisors looked rather impressed.

"I must say, elf, that you do not match up to your outward appearance at all." Cullen said begrudgingly.

"A most astute observation, Herald." Josephine said. "Quite an excellent plan." Leliana frowned and remained silent along with Cassandra, who looked on with steadily growing admiration.

Agronaak had to admit, the elf knew what he was talking about. He afforded him some grudging respect. "Zarihn, I've a feeling you and I will work well together." He looked at the rest of the assembly. "So this is the Inquisition, yes? I suspect we shall all get to know each other rather well in the coming days, months, years, what have you. While I do not yet know the lot of you very well, and some of us may have started out very aggressive towards one another-" He shot a pointed glance at Cassandra, "-I've a feeling the six of us will still work very well together by the end of this all - whether or not we particularly enjoy the company. I, for one, am willing to put up with Zarihn if you are." He said this last sentence with a slightly upturned mouth. Leliana snorted lightly, but made a good attempt to stifle it. Zarihn, much to his own credit, managed a good-natured laugh at the joke, silently plotting a practical joke for later.

"So, that's it then?" Cassandra inquired. "We've all been introduced to the situation, met each other, exchanged greetings - has the Inquisition been officially revived?"

"Unless there's something else anyone would like to say...?" Josephine asked, pointedly glaring at Zarihn. When he, amazingly, said nothing, Josephine perked up in triumph. "Then I believe initial business is concluded. We shall reconvene this evening, after dinner, to further discuss the situation in the Hinterlands. Once again, a pleasure to meet all of you." With that, she and Cullen turned on their heels and walked back the way they'd come. Cassandra and Leliana marched down a side corridor, murmuring conspiratorially. That left Zarihn and Agronaak alone in the council chamber. Zarihn watched them go and bit his lip.

"Out of the goodness of my heart, you can have the redhead." Zarihn said jokingly, stepping back from the table.

Agronaak snorted. "How kind of you, Zarihn. I appreciate your generosity."

Zarihn rolled his eyes playfully and walked to the door. "Don't mention it, Herald." He called back in a slightly mocking tone. As soon as he stepped outside, he slumped against the wall, his upbeat demeanor fading as he wondered what he had gotten himself into now.

Agronaak waited until everyone was out of sight, then leaned hard against the table, sighing, his shoulders sagging. It had seemed a perfectly reasonable course of action a few minutes ago, signing on to this Inquisition thing, but now he wasn't sure what he'd brought upon himself. He was supposedly a Herald of Andraste, and his counterpart was a flamboyant, sarcastic, prick, but that didn't change the fact that he was mountainous, nor that he had horns. Could he, Qunari that he was, ever truly have equal voice in these meetings? In anything the Inquisition did?

'Well, I suppose it's a little late to back out now,' he thought. 'And where else would I go, anyway? Time to save the world.' He stood back up, set his shoulders, and strode out the door.


	3. Chapter 3: The Hinterlands

Zarihn looked up from the pommel of his saddle at the land around him. Nothing but grass for miles and miles around. He groaned in displeasure and leaned back down against his horse's neck.

Varric rode up next to him with a smug smile on his face. "Cheer up, Blondie." He said happily. "We'll get there soon."

"And if we don't?" Zarihn asked tiredly.

"Then hopefully you'll die peacefully and we won't have to listen to you whining." Varric said in his same tone.

Zarihn groaned again and sat up, looking a little closer at the horizon. He noticed that a few trees were starting to become visible in the distance, growing larger as they approached. "That's it, then?" He asked Varric, gesturing vaguely to the treeline. "That's where we're going?"

Varric nodded. "I went here once before with some old Merchant's Guild friends of mine. Castle Redcliffe isn't far, so don't you worry, Blondie." Zarihn scowled and spurred his horse on ahead eagerly. Varric slowed down for a moment to let Agronaak catch up. "What d'you think jumped up his ass?" He asked the Qunari.

Agronaak grunted. "It seems to me that our elven friend has problems sitting still for long periods of time. His personality is such that he needs to be doing something constantly, and riding for as long as we have has driven him mad with boredom. I have noticed a significant decline in his perkiness and snark since the start of our journey…" Agronaak exhaled. "I personally enjoy long expanses of nature. It allows one to think, to reflect… and if I do not wish to, I do not have to listen to him carry on about how attractive he finds the Seeker's backside. Or Cullen's, for that matter."

Varric laughed loudly. "Truer words were never spoken, Rivaini." He said, casting a glance back at Cassandra. "Although can you really blame him?"

Cassandra rode up next to Varric and raised an eyebrow. "Blame him for what?" She asked curiously.

"Zarihn going on about how attractive he thinks you are." Varric said, as though it was a perfectly normal topic of discussion.

Upon seeing the scandalized look on her face, Agronaak snorted. "As though you are truly surprised by this news, Seeker." Cassandra's face reddened slightly and she began to sputter with rage, and he threw his head back and laughed. "An even better reaction than I expected."

"You act like you haven't been flirting with him constantly the last three weeks on the road." Varric pointed out, laughing. "And he isn't the only one who's been staring." Cassandra turned almost seven different shades of red and rode off to save herself from further embarrassment.

"Ride into your lover's arms!" Varric called ahead. Cassandra turned around for a

moment and giving him an excellent view of her middle finger.

The group emerged onto a ridge just past the treeline where several dozen tents had been set up. Battalions of Inquisition soldiers were running through drills being run by squadrons of officers and archers stood off to the side firing practice shots into targets painted on trees. A dwarven woman strode up to them with a smile on her face and a crossbow under one arm. She bowed deeply to the Heralds.

"Welcome to the Hinterlands, Heralds of Andraste." She said, straightening back up. "I'm Scout Sergeant Harding."

"Pleasure to meet you, Scout Harding." Solas said, being the only one who maintained any civility. Cassandra climbed down from her saddle, followed shortly by Zarihn and Varric.

"Harding, eh?" Varric asked. "Ever been to Kirkwall's Hightown?"

"No… can't say I have…" Harding said cautiously. "Why do you ask?"

"Because then you'd be- ah, nevermind." Varric said, waving dismissively.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "For the love of… oh, it's not worth the time." She looked down at Harding. "Can you give us a briefing on the area and its dangers, Scout Harding?"

The small woman perked up. "Of course, Lady Cassandra. As you can plainly see," she said, gesturing to the surrounding area, "the Ferelden Hinterlands are not exactly a rough place to live. There are some hills here and there, but mostly the land is flat, and the weather is generally as sunny as you see it now, with the occasional light rain. Natural threats are mostly limited to wolves and perhaps the occasional bear, and there's also the chance of a Fade rift popping open, but it's overall not something one should worry about.

"Aside from the main conflict - mages and Templars fighting near Redcliffe, as I'm sure you know - there are a fair amount of bandits patrolling the roads, though they are mostly not very well-equipped, and should not prove a problem to handle so long as you keep your guard up. The apostates, now that's who you want to worry about around here. They've formed their own little groups here and there, and while their skill levels seem mostly novice, a fireball is a fireball, no matter who slings it. There's the town of Redcliffe in the north, as well as a small crossroads in the center of the Hinterlands." Scout Harding fidgeted for a moment. "And… uh, well, there's my briefing. Sirs."

"Thank you for your observations on the matter, Scout Harding." Zarihn said, holding off his snark for a moment.

"It was quite useful. Thank you." Solas added, nodding politely.

"Pretty nice job, Harding." Varric said, smirking for no apparent reason. Cassandra groaned softly. Varric turned to her and glared. "Like you and Blondie are any better."

"Quite a bit worse, I think." Solas said. Zarihn swatted the back of his head. Agronaak needed a drink. Harding was doing her best to maintain her soldierly composure.

"WELL ANYWAY," Agronaak boomed, causing everyone to snap their heads towards him. They had not yet heard him raise his voice. "I think it is best that we all agree right now, the two of them have unresolved sexual tension. Accept it. DO it. Alright? Alright. Lay off so many jokes; we're losing productivity. Where to, Cassandra?" Varric burst out laughing and clutched his sides, trying to catch his breath. Cassandra turned red again and climbed back onto her horse, riding a short distance ahead to the path leading to the crossroads. Zarihn smirked and hopped onto his own horse before following her. Varric climbed onto his pony with some difficulty, still laughing hysterically.

After a time, perhaps an hour or so, the group of five came upon the aforementioned crossroads. It was a nice, simple crossing; a tower and a few small buildings were all that stood the area. There were a good deal of merchant wagons and stalls lining the roadside, however, and many people milled about, several of them heading in the opposite direction of the sign that said "Redcliffe." "Hmmm…" Agronaak mumbled. "You all see the fleeing people too, yes? It seems the fighting may have escalated further than we'd expected these last three weeks."

"These people would not be fleeing if it were a simple skirmish." Zarihn observed, reaching instinctively for the curved dagger on his right hip. "The Templars must be pressing forward, and the Apostates are trying to hold out. This won't end well. Not at all."

"We should try to find Mother Giselle before anything happens." Cassandra said, riding forth into traffic and looking through the crowds of people for any sign of someone in Chantry robes.

It took them a while of searching the crowd to find her; in fact, they heard her even before they saw her. The faint sound of Chantry scripture sent a shiver down Agronaak and Zarihn's spines, and they glanced at each other knowingly. Tilting their heads, they slowly followed the sound of her voice, ignoring the grumblings of people below about jackasses on horses, until they caught a glimpse of her red-and-white Chantry garb poking above the throng of people. Zarihn motioned to the rest of the party, and they made their way over to her.

Upon reaching her, Mother Giselle, an aging, dark-skinned woman with kind eyes, smiled warmly up at them. "Mother Giselle?" Cassandra asked.

"Indeed I am. And you are members of this new… Inquisition, come to rescue me, yes? One of your soldiers informed me you would be coming to speak with me a week or so ago. What has transpired to cause this delay?"

"Our sincerest apologies, most holy child of Andraste." Zarihn said, dismounting his horse and bowing. Apparently he wasn't all sarcasm. "We were waylaid by unfortunate events."

Mother Giselle turned to him and bowed in turn. "I thank you for your kindness, although I believe such a title may be better suited to you, Herald." She said. Mother Giselle looked up at Agronaak on his horse and bowed to him as well. "You are the other Herald, I trust? The one who fell from the Breach?"

Agronaak nodded. "Agronaak Qun'Maloc, Mother Giselle. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, if you would be so kind as to go gather your things so we can move along..." Zarihn seemed about to whine, but Agronaak held up a hand. "No complaints about the return trip. But yes, Mother Giselle, if you'd please-" He was cut off by the sound of an arrow lodging itself in the sign a few feet next to his head. Zarihn looked around, startled. He saw a Templar standing off of the road with a bow in hand, already notching another arrow and taking aim.

"Varric?" Zarihn asked, glancing over at the dwarf.

"Doubting me, Blondie?" Varric asked, pulling Bianca off his back and shooting the archer quickly. He opened his mouth to make another remark, but before he could speak, a fireball flew past his head and struck the ground not far from him. Zarihn turned round the other way and saw a group of apostates emerging from the forest.

"Can we get no peace?" Zarihn asked tiredly, drawing his daggers and flipping the left blade over so that it faced backwards.

"We all know the answer to that." Cassandra replied, readying her sword. A small army of Templars sprinted from the opposite side of the clearing and ran towards them, prepared to do battle.

"Where are our reinforcements?" Solas asked, twirling his staff in hand. A crossbow bolt flew past his head, seemingly from nowhere, and pierced an apostate's chest.

"Would everyone stop shooting?" Zarihn snapped, turning round again to see Scout Harding at the top of the ridge. Groups of Inquisition soldiers stormed down the hill and onto the road, taking defensive positions between the commoners and the attackers.

Agronaak leapt off his horse, drawing his shield and unsheathing his sword. Zarihn followed him a moment later, twirling his daggers and grinning madly. Solas jumped from his mare and slammed the butt of his staff into the ground, causing a barrier of green energy to form around the travelers on the road. Narrowing his eyes, Agronaak planted his feet solidly, tensed up, and then burst into a sprint, vaulting over the fencepost at the side of the road and charging at the growing cluster of Templars. "Cassandra, with me! Zarihn, flank them!" he called back, raising his shield to protect his face from incoming projectiles and letting out a furious roar, causing all Templars to shift their focus towards him. Cassandra screamed some manner of Nevarran war cry and ran after him, smashing her shield into a Templar's face. Agronaak crashed into the front of the Templar line, knocking the first man down with enough force to bowl the second and third man in the row over as well. He immediately set to work on his foes, driving his sword into one's barely-exposed neck, ripping it out, and spinning into a shield bash on another poor sap's helmet that dented the metal a good three inches.

"That's not fair!" Zarihn said, jumping up onto a fence post. He leapt off and tackled a Templar to the ground, his blades tearing through his armor. "You'd better save some for the rest of us!"

"There's plenty over here, Blondie!" Varric called back, firing into the crowd of apostates on the other side shortly before the Inquisition soldiers crashed into them. Deadly at range though they might be, their staves, although wonderful concentrators of magic, did them no good at close range.

The soldiers made short work of the apostates, hurrying back to the other side of the road and engaging the Templars. Zarihn made sure they kept away from him so that he could handle them on his own, the ground around him already littered with corpses. Cassandra fought her way through the Templars to the back to deal with their archers. Agronaak was slightly ahead of her, cleaving his way through Templar bodies. He felt a light sweat forming on his brow, a slight heaviness to his breathing. Luckily, they had cut through most of the group already; a path littered with corpses formed behind him as he worked his way towards the archers. When he reached the first archer, he stopped, set his feet, and planted a kick directly in the Templar's chest. The man fell backwards, landing onto Zarihn's waiting blades.

"That one counts as mine." Zarihn said, letting the archer fall to the ground before he ran off and attacked the others. Agronaak smiled briefly, vowing revenge, before continuing his fight. He plunged his sword into the head of another Templar, but instead of removing it right away, he left it in, took the archer's bow from his hands, used it to spin around and break it in half across the face of another Templar, then took his sword back before the archer's corpse even hit the ground. Zarihn noticed the feat and gave him an impressed look. Before he could come up with some snarky comment, another arrow flew past his head and grazed his ear. He turned around and grabbed the archer who fired the shot by the throat and lifted him up.

"While I appreciate the attempt to clip my ears, I like them the way they are." He said, his sarcasm still evident. Zarihn rammed his blade up through the archer's chest and throwing him to the ground. He withdrew his dagger and flipped it over to grab the point before throwing it end over end so that it struck the next archer down the line through the throat. He ran over to him and pulled the blade out, planting his boot in his chest and kicking him down to the ground.

"We so skillful right now tho!" Zarihn called.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing!"

Agronaak shook his head, muttered something about a "fourth wall", and continued his fighting, sticking his sword through a soldier's belly. The Inquisition soldiers finished off the few remaining Templars quickly before forming up into even ranks in front of the Heralds. Zarihn silently counted them and realized something. They hadn't lost a single man or woman. A woman with markings on her armor denoting her as an officer stepped forward.

"What are your orders, Lord Heralds?" She asked, looking to the two of them expectantly.

"So many titles going around these days." Zarihn remarked.

"If they're just giving them away, I'd like one." Varric called out, walking with Solas over to the opposite side of the road. Zarihn laughed for a moment before regaining his composure.

"Go out and aid the wounded and the refugees." Zarihn said, suddenly the heroic Herald of Andraste he was expected to be. "Help them go to Redcliffe or wherever else they wish to go. If any ask you to tell them of the Inquisition, then do so. If at all possible, attempt to recruit those who seem as though they might wish to join." The officer nodded and stepped back in line with the soldiers before they marched off to aid the refugees as ordered.

Agronaak gave him a nod of approval. "I am seeing more and more that you are quite good at speaking to people in a serious manner. It is simply more fun for you to be a sarcastic asshole, isn't it?" He smirked.

Zarihn laughed. "Speaking as such has always kind of been a sort of talent of mine. Since the Blight, anyway." He said. "Although sarcasm is rather fun."

Agronaak arched an eyebrow. "Since the Blight? You'll have to tell me about that experience when you get the chance."

"I plan on it." Zarihn said. "Although expect embellishments and tales of unreasonable strength. The sarcasm still figures in, as it always does."

"I would expect nothing less."

Mother Giselle approached them with a look of mild concern. "A most impressive display of arms, Heralds." She said, frowning. "But tell me, why do the Heralds of Andraste so quickly resort to violence?"

"You must forgive us yet again, Revered Mother." Zarihn said, bowing to her. "But these are desperate times, and as the saying goes, desperate measures are often called for."

Mother Giselle nodded and thought for a moment. "From what I have seen, your new Inquisition shows great martial prowess. And your methods for dealing with the populace are surprisingly… kind."

"I thank you, Revered Mother." Zarihn said, smiling kindly. "Do we have your support?"

"You do. My full support in your endeavors." She replied. "Provided that your Inquisition remains true to it's purpose."

"Rest assured, Mother Giselle," Agronaak said, looking out at the soldiers and citizens assembled, "the safety of the people and the restoration of peace to Thedas is our highest priority. But, of course," he continued, turning his head towards the priestess, "we cannot do that as of now. Your support means a great deal to the Inquisition; I promise you will not regret it. If you have any other resources we could make use of to gain more support, please inform us."

"Of course." She said, giving one last bow before walking back to the crowds of refugees.

Zarihn sighed with relief. "Glad that's over, at least." He said, striding quickly towards his horse. "Let's get going, because dammit do I need a drink. Or more like thirty." Before they could go anywhere, however, they heard a loud snorting coming from the woods just before a large, mottled brown druffalo burst onto the road, almost plowing into Agronaak. "Well that's just rude!" Zarihn exclaimed. Agronaak shook his head, startled, and turned around to watch the druffalo abruptly stopping in its tracks, pacing, and then... 'Oh, by all that is holy, is it trying to take a shit?' The creature's frame was shaking vigorously and it was letting out pained grunts, going on for several minutes before simply slumping to the ground in defeat.

Agronaak slowly walked over to the beast, which was breathing heavily, and noticed the collar around its neck. He read the inscription: "Name: Druffy. Prizewinning druffalo. If found, please return to this address. Well, shit," Agronaak said. "Or rather, lack of it. I suppose it's our duty to take this escaped constipated druffalo to its master, isn't it...?"

"For the glory of the Inquisition," Varric muttered.

"This task must have been sent down from the Maker himself." Zarihn said, laughing as he walked over to the druffalo. "I've got something of a solution."

"Don't tell me that-" Cassandra started to say. Zarihn cut her off.

"Everyone, cover your noses!" Zarihn said, drawing his dagger and pricking the animal's backside. It let out a startled noise and lurched to its feet before violently voiding its bowels onto the grass. Zarihn grimaced and backed away, covering his nose and mouth. Varric gagged and stumbled back a few paces and more than one person in the distance vomited.

"Oh, Maker…" Cassandra muttered, turning away from the druffalo and shuddering disgustedly.

"Zarihn!" Agronaak bellowed, holding his hands to his face, "Why would you DO that with PEOPLE around?! For the love of... Oh, it's on my boot!" He resolved to melt the thing down for scrap once they got back to Haven.

"Well I had to do SOMETHING!" Zarihn yelled at him, turning and vomiting onto the grass.

Solas sighed at how wrong everything had just gone. He gave his staff a quick twirl, and suddenly the area smelled like blooming wildflowers. Everyone was thankful for the smell elimination, but it did not help their eyes unsee the mountain of waste that had just erupted from the druffalo's rear end. "Well, anyway... I suppose we should begin leading it back to where it came from. Let us be off."

* * *

It took them three hours. Three hours of the most wretched ordeal any of the five had ever experienced. Zarihn's dagger had proven far more effective than originally intended; literally every ten minutes the druffalo would stop and void itself again, each fresh load seemingly more putrid than the last. It got to the point where Varric and Zarihn began placing bets to see whose prediction of when it would next shit was more accurate. It was amazing the thing even had something left to remove from its body. Zarihn seemed to be making the most off of this endeavor, which was just as well, seeing as he had no money anyway. Solas didn't even bother whisking the smell away after the first hour. When they finally got the wretched beast back to its pen, Agronaak strode up to the grateful owner and had to resist every nerve in his body urging him to break the man's nose. "Please, sir," Varric pleaded, "Feed her more fiber. I'm begging you."

"Fiber? What for?" The farmer asked, completely oblivious. The druffalo promptly unloaded another massive pile of shit onto a nearby rock. The farmer looked horrified. "I… I see…"

"I think I may just turn to a life of pious devotion after this." Zarihn said, grimacing and gagging.

"I think I may just give mine up." Cassandra groaned, turning away from the druffalo and its owner.

"Let's just… oh, Maker…" Zarihn muttered, already walking his horse back to the main road. "Let's just get the fuck out of here. This is… this is too much. I don't get paid enough for this shit."

"Pun intended?" Varric asked.

"Absolutely." Zarihn replied, climbing back into the saddle.

 **AN: So yeah. I wrote "excrement" in the summary on purpose. :P I hope you liked it! I kind of like Thursday update days - but idk. Might fluctuate between Thursday and Friday... or maybe I'll just upload a chapter whenever I feel like it. Whatever. Again, hope you enjoyed.**


	4. Chapter 4: Zarihn Du Rien: A History

Zarihn sat alone at a table in Haven's tavern, a half drunk mug of something unidentifiable in his hand. He was trying to drink away his memories, as he often had before the Collapse, and he had finally managed to push the Druffalo from his thoughts. It would seem that he was now at the stage of drunkenness that was occupied by extreme lust, not that that was any different from his normal state of being, since his mind was focused once again on Cassandra. Zarihn took a sip from his mug and furrowed his brow, thinking on Cassandra's rear end once again.

"Ahem," said someone behind him. He turned around in his seat and came face to face with Agronaak's belly button. "I, uh, hope I'm not intruding, Zarihn. I came in here for a quick mug of ale and I saw you, and thought we might speak. Thoughts?"

"Thoughts?" Zarihn scoffed. "My only thought is Cassandra, but by all means, have a seat."

Agronaak nodded in appreciation, sliding into the stool next to Zarihn. The stool and table were obviously not built for people of his height or muscle mass, and he fidgeted uncomfortably. "So, Zarihn... We are comrade Heralds, yes? Bound together by this mark we share... What do you think of that?"

"Honestly, I think it's load of druffalo shit." Zarihn said. A poor choice of words, evidently. They both shifted uncomfortably in their seats before shaking it off. "I don't believe in any 'Maker of us all', regardless of what the Chantry says. Comrades, however? That is something a lot more tangible. As is the Breach, and these marks we bear. I long for the days when life was uncomplicated, but not everything was sunshine and roses for everyone back then either. Least of all for me."

Agronaak grunted. "I see. I agree with much of what you have just said. But, you say you long for the days before, even though not everything was easy... Why is that? What was life like for you, that you were living a difficult but preferable life to this one?"

Zarihn's eyes glazed over for a moment and he smiled sadly. "Life was good, for a time. And that's the problem, really. All good things end, as is the way of the world." He said, taking another drink. "But… there are a few things I wish hadn't ended."

"What do you mean?" Agronaak asked him, his brow furrowing.

"I had a good life. Years ago. Twelve years ago. Actually… no, scratch that. Thirteen years. It was exactly to the day four days ago." Zarihn said. "I used to have a family, you see. A wonderful family. Parents. Three sisters. We all got along, except for all the practical jokes I used to pull on my siblings." He chuckled dryly and kept drinking. "We lived on the road. My father called us merchants, or 'entrepreneurs', was his word. In actuality, we were scavengers. Battle cleaners. My father stole from the fallen in battles. No, stealing is the wrong word. They weren't going to keep using any of what we took. And the people we sold it too... they certainly needed everything more than the dead. My father always talked about going into an ordinary business. With a shopfront and everything. In a town, perhaps. Or a city, even. Life was good like that. Really, it was. But that all changed. As everything does."

"What happened?" Agronaak asked, his tone softening.

"When I was fourteen, younger than all my sisters, the Fifth Blight began." Zarihn told him. "At the time, my father had just recently crossed the Frostbacks from Orlais to Ferelden, hoping to find good business. He wasn't disappointed. Less than two weeks after our arrival in Ferelden, the darkspawn took victory at the Battle of Ostagar. Where native Fereldans saw tragedy and hopelessness as the darkspawn attacked, my father saw only an opportunity. He took us south with our little caravan, and waited until the horde had moved on a bit before we went in and picked over the battlefield. At the time, we thought we had struck it rich. Maybe we could resell all of that gear and finally open up our shop. Sounds like a cliche, I know. Moving back to Val Royeaux and being successful.

"But of course that didn't work out. Shortly after we gathered up these new weapons and armor and moved north, we ran into some trouble. Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir and his men, the survivors of Ostagar. We didn't know who they were at first, and offered to sell them our newly discovered wares. Some of the men politely stopped to take a look, although I wish they never did. The soldiers recognized the armor worn by their fallen comrades and turned on us, calling us thieves and the worst sort of scum for stealing from the dead. The fact that we elves, and Orlesian elves no less, certainly didn't help, seeing as Teyrn Loghain hates and fears both Orlesians and elves. The soldiers brought all of our wares before the Teyrn and told them lie upon lie of what they had 'discovered'. He sided with them, and they all attacked us. They stole everything, killed our animals, took turns with my sisters, and killed my parents. By the time they got to me, I had had the stupidity to take a blade from the 'stolen' weaponry. I fought rather valiantly for a scared teenager, or so I like to think. It didn't end well, of course. Ended up getting this," Zarihn leaned forward and brushed away a wayward strand of hair to reveal a light, jagged scar on his right cheekbone that had somehow gone unnoticed before, "from some asshole with an axe.

"They couldn't just kill me properly, oh no. Of course not. They had to forget about me and leave me in the mud, surrounded by corpses." Zarihn grimaced and finished his drink, motioning for the bartender to bring him another. Only when he brought him another mug did he continue. "And I couldn't just lie there. I had to keep going. I don't even know why I did. I got up and started walking. I still had a dagger. At least they didn't take that, so I used that for pretty much everything. I slowly made my way to Denerim, barely alive at this point. I met a man named Slim Couldry, who very politely informed me that he was a thief, and thought I had the makings of one as well. Of course I could have just stabbed him in the knee and taken his purse, but I decided to hear him out.

"That was the start of a very bizarre friendship. Slim Couldry, an aging half-elf thief, and a scrawny fourteen-year-old Orlesian orphan. But it was a friendship all the same. Slim taught me how to steal properly. How to pick a lock, how to climb through a window, or scale a wall, and this friend of his… Ignacio, I think it was, showed me the proper way to use my dagger. That all went on for a few months, as tales of the darkspawn attacking grew more and more frequent. After I had grown over half a bloody foot and made a few sovereigns, I decided I wanted out of the thieving game. It was, oddly enough, because of a girl. A Ferelden girl named Evanna. And I swear, at least to my young, pubescent mind, she was absolutely gorgeous. I left my sort-of-job with Slim and got a permanent room at 'The Gnawed Noble' with Evanna. It was a bloody stupid idea, really. I knew it couldn't last, but I wanted to hope it could, at the very least.

"And, as the way of my life always seems to be, this brief time of joy hope in my life came to a close as well. The darkspawn attacked Denerim, and Evanna died in the battle. I was with her when it happened, you know. The darkspawn came and broke down the gates, an Archdemon flying over them. There were just so few soldiers… I could scarcely believe it. King Alistair had gone with his fellow Grey Warden to Redcliffe, that much everybody knew, but it was all a ruse. The darkspawn swept through the city like a flood, killing all in their path. They broke down the door of 'The Gnawed Noble' and killed everyone in it. Everyone but me. A hurlock burst into our room and, before I even knew what was happening, it killed her. I went into a fit of rage, grabbed my dagger, and charged. To my own amazement, I managed to kill it. More came, however. One of them had a spear, and the last thing I remember was that… horribly crude thing being rammed into my stomach. I awoke after the battle outside the city, being tended to by a Circle Mage. Apparently they had just managed to save me, something about the Fade, but I wasn't really listening. I got out of that place as soon as I could and started wandering. I sort of just… drifted… for a while, gathering up money. As soon as I had enough, I spent it all on supplies to cross the Frostbacks for the first time in three years.

"I traveled through Orlais with a purpose in mind: to get to Val Royeaux. I eventually arrived, exhausted and out of money, my only asset the dagger I had kept since my family's deaths. I walked through the city for a while, hoping someone like Slim would come and find me, saying I had promise. No one ever did. So I went into business on my own, using the skills Slim and Ignacio had taught me. That all went on for years. Years full of loneliness, stolen sovereigns, and more women and men than I can count. Not to say that I can't count high, there were just a lot of them. My enjoyment peaked somewhere around my fourth year in Val Royeaux, and life slowly became dull once again.

"But, three months ago, I got a letter. Someone needed a thief and a spy. Apparently there was some sort of Conclave meeting at a place called the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and it was being led by Divine Justinia the Fifth. The Most Holy Divine apparently worse some exquisite jewels, and there was a certain anonymous person who would pay dearly to have those in his possession. This unknown person simply signed his letter with an ornate Tevinter seal and the letter 'C', and they wished me also to spy on this meeting and take notes. An absurd task, I know, but stranger things have been done. So, I did as I was bid. I went to this Conclave and spied and took notes and kept an eye on Divine Justinia, who was indeed wearing a set of fine jewelry, which would no doubt earn me a handsome few sovereigns. But, unfortunately for myself, this Conclave ended in disaster. The last I remember of that was an explosion, and then waking up in a cell with a rather gorgeous red-haired woman yelling at me about said explosion." Zarihn took a long drink. "So, my comrade Herald, that is my story. My life before the Collapse." He reached into his coat idly and pulled out a small grey iron dagger that looked as though it had been used more than a back alley whore. Zarihn twirled the dagger aimlessly a few times in his hand, glancing up at Agronaak occasionally.

The Qunari's brow was still furrowed. He looked into Zarihn's eyes, as if searching for something within them. Then he sighed and motioned for his own drink; he'd been so enamored with the story that he'd forgotten to order a drink to begin with. Looking back down at the elf, he wasn't sure what to say. What could he possibly say? Sorry? For what? What would he even be apologizing for?

"Zarihn... Thank you for the story. It means a great deal to me that you were willing to reveal such personal information to me, though we do not know each other so well. I hope you continue to feel so comfortable."

"Hey, it was my pleasure, Rivaini." Zarihn replied, sounding a bit like Varric for a moment. He grinned and took a drink. Despite his outward appearance, he was a more than a bit sad at remembering the events of his life. He stood up, still grinning and finished his drink. "Come on, comrade. The next round is on me."

Agronaak smiled. "No complaints from me... comrade." Zarihn patted him on the back and walked up to the bar, ordering a couple drinks for them.


	5. Chapter 5: A Friend of Red Jenny

**AN: So yeah. Thursdays are update days. :P Oh, and please, if you have any advice on how to improve the story or read something you really liked, please PM me or leave a review. I can't tell you how much they help. Enjoy!**

Zarihn awoke with someone pounding on his door in the keep in Haven, much to his great disapproval. He climbed out of bed and grabbed his trousers off the floor and pulled them on before opening the door. Varric was standing outside, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Hey, Blondie. How was the girl?" Varric asked teasingly.

"What girl?" Zarihn asked. He heard a quiet groan from behind him and saw a blonde woman poke her head out from under the sheets. "Oh."

"Coming back to bed, my lord?" She cooed.

"By the Stone, Blondie… how drunk were you?" Varric asked, laughing hysterically.

"Well, she's not bad looking…" Zarihn said, his eyes widening as his memory came back to him. "And… well... " He stammered for a few moments.

"Is she wearing handcuffs?" Varric asked, still laughing. Zarihn reached into his pocket and found a key, which he quickly used to unlock the cuffs. "Come on, Blondie. Leliana wants to see you and the Rivaini."

Zarihn nodded and grabbed his shirt and boots, slipping them on before walking out of his room with Varric. The pair of them walked down the staircase and entered the war room where Agronaak was already waiting with Cassandra and their advisors.

"I'm glad you finally decided to join us, Zarihn." Josephine said with a smug smile.

"I thought you'd have stayed in bed all day." Cullen added. "With a woman like that, I know I would've."

"Oh, I only picked her because her hair is the same as yours, Knight-Commander." Zarihn said, completely deadpan. Cullen promptly shut up and turned a few different shades of bright red.

"If we can continue…" Leliana prompted, producing a sheet of parchment from her cloak. "We recently received a letter from a group of assassins known as 'The Friends of Red Jenny'. Apparently they wish to help us."

Agronaak grunted. "Well, what does it say?" he asked. Leliana handed the parchment over to him, and he read the large, flowing script:

People say you're special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone.

There's a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and 'round the café, and maybe you'll meet him first. Bring swords.

Friends of Red Jenny

Attached to the parchment was a crude drawing of the general area in which they were supposed to look for all these things. Agronaak paused in thought for a moment. "So, these… Friends of Red Jenny, they do seem to wish to help. This is all that was sent to us?" Leliana nodded. "Well, I do not know if I entirely like the idea of us trusting such a cryptic letter." He paused again. "Although, small as the Inquisition is, if this is a legitimate offer of assistance, they could prove to be a valuable ally, perhaps extra spies or soldiers. We do not know the nature of this organization, so it could provide us with something we desperately need, somewhere we desperately need it."

He looked up from the parchment and at his advisors. "I assume you three already discussed the possible benefits and dangers of going to Val Royeaux and finding what this is all about. Tell me what you all think about this.

Josephine cleared her throat. "I, Lord Herald, personally believe that we will definitely benefit from seeing this through. If it is a valuable ally sending this message, that is a potential wealth of resources and "reach," if you will, that we would otherwise not have. I do much of the Inquisition's paperwork, and with our current pool of resources, we will not be able to do much of anything related to anything without more allies. It is in our best interest to take the risk."

"I am not a politician," Cassandra said, "but I know enough to understand that no organization can function without allies. Josephine is experienced in this field; I would listen to her, Herald."

Cullen frowned. "I don't know, I just don't feel comfortable with this. Who are these people? No one knows. No one's heard of them. Even if they are an ally, how helpful can they be if they've not made any sort of name for themselves?"

Leliana chimed in. "On the contrary, Knight-Commander, don't you think that perhaps the reason we've not heard of them before is because whoever they are, they're particularly good at their job?" She turned to Agronaak. "I support finding out who these people are."

Agronaak considered everything for a moment. "I have no real quarrel about following this lead," he eventually intoned.

Zarihn cleared his throat loudly. "If I might add something?"

Cullen sighed dramatically. "Proceed."

Zarihn feigned hurt. "You wound me, sir." He said sarcastically. "In all seriousness, the Friends of Red Jenny are a very dangerous organization, to say the very least. While I lived in Ferelden, I had a few run-ins with them, none of which ended well. They run a questionable sort of business, and they are often regarded by others of the same profession as using questionable methods. While I may not be the most reputable or moral of people, these are the sort of people the Inquisition should not be associated with. But… perhaps Josephine is right. We need all the help we can get."

"Then we are in agreement?" Leliana asked.

"Well, I might as well throw my lot in as well." Varric said.

"I will make the arrangements." Josephine said, picking up a board with a sheet of parchment attached to it.

"I shall find Solas." Cassandra said. She turned and started to walk from the room. "Prepare our mounts for the journey."

"I'll return to my post, then," Cullen said, swiftly striding back from whence he'd came - seemingly a bit miffed at being overruled so soundly. That left Agronaak and Zarihn alone in the chamber once more.

"You truly do not think this is a smart idea, Zarihn?" Agronaak inquired. "What did the Friends of Red Jenny do that left you so hesitant to speak with them?"

"We parted on bad terms." Zarihn told him. "I was one of them, you know. Back in Val Royeaux. It was only for a short while, but I didn't agree with their methods for dealing with their targets. They stabbed me in the back, quite literally, and disavowed me. I understand that they might prove useful to the Inquisition, but I don't think the Inquisition needs more people like myself."

"If they're all as much of snarky assholes as you, I agree wholeheartedly."

Zarihn scoffed. "Amusing, but you know what I really meant."

Agronaak nodded. "I understand, yes. It's likely not the best idea to allow a large group of people of questionable intent to work closely with our forces, meager as they are. But, like has been said, we have no choice if we want to expand. In this situation, a group of thieves and killers as an ally is perhaps better than no allies at all."

"And here I thought I was special." Zarihn said, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Come on, Rivaini. Let's get the horses."

Four weeks and a drastic increase in sexual tension later, the Heralds arrived in Val Royeaux with Cassandra, Varric, and Solas. They rode in through the main gate, and their arrival was met with mixed emotions by the populace. The majority of people seemed to be cheering them on and chanting "Herald" at the top of their lungs. A fraction of the people seemed to have formed up around a stage at the opposite end of the market square where a man in Templar plate armor was spouting nonsense about the "dangers of the Inquisition".

"They are a pox on the land! This Inquisition is comprised of heretics, mages, and thieves!" The Templar shouted. "Do not listen to their false tales of heroism and 'aiding the helpless!'"

"Bundle of laughs, that one is…" Zarihn mumbled.

Agronaak felt himself growl. "Idiot Templar," he said. "I have heard only fragments of the lies he spouts and I already grow tired."

"I recognize that man." Cassandra said, walking her horse past the stage. "That is Knight-Lieutenant Torrance from Kirkwall's Chantry. He was involved in the red lyrium scandals in Hightown…"

Torrance looked down from the stage at Cassandra and pointed at her. "There! The Seekers have become yet another tool of this false Inquisition, and this whore is no different!" Cassandra tensed visibly, her entire frame going rigid.

"That was the stupidest thing I have ever seen anyone do." Varric said.

"The Templar will not survive long." Solas observed as Cassandra rode up to the stage, her eyes full of rage.

"You will withdraw your accusations, Knight-Lieutenant, or suffer the consequences." Cassandra hissed, still remaining relatively calm.

"I will do no such thing!" Torrance boomed. "I will not be commanded by heretics and brothel rejects! Only the Maker may command me!"

"And what of the Bride of the Maker?" Zarihn asked, shifting into his more serious demeanor.

"I live to serve the Maker and his bride Andraste." Torrance snapped at him.

"Then you will no doubt listen to her Heralds!" Zarihn retorted.

Torrance stammered for a moment but quickly regained his composure. "I will not listen to her false Heralds! Only a true servant of the Maker could be her Herald!"

Zarihn leapt from his horse and stormed up onto the stage, his short grey cape flowing behind him. He yanked down his right sleeve and held up his hand, sending a short bolt of electricity into the air. "Would you deny a Herald who carries her Mark?" Torrance was quiet for a while and opened his mouth to speak, but Cassandra cut him off.

"Lord Herald Zarihn has had a checkered past, but he remains a faithful servant of the Maker!" She yelled at him. "And Lord Herald Agronaak, while not of our faith, has come to us in our time of need to aid us!" Agronaak removed his left gauntlet and held up his now-exposed hand, shooting off his own bolt of electricity. A surprised murmur ran through the crowd and more than a few of them began to change their minds about Torrance's way of thinking.

Agronaak's cold gray eyes locked onto Torrance's, and he refused to remove them for a solid fifteen seconds, even as the Templar fool began to sweat and look more and more nervous. When he looked as if he were about to scream, Agronaak snorted contemptuously and turned to look at the crowd. "Your god-wife, prophetess, whatever your most holy may be to you," he bellowed, "does not pick and choose heroes based on race, or background, or belief! We are both living proof! Who here can stand to listen to this ignorant buffoon prattle on any longer about things he knows nothing about?" An angry mutter arose from the crowd and they all stormed away from the stage, leaving Torrance standing there, dumbstruck.

"You have ruined us all and doomed the world!" Torrance yelled at them. "Thedas needs an army, not a ragtag band of thieves, whores, and abomination-" He was cut off when Zarihn slammed his fist into the Templar's face, cracking his nose and sending blood pouring onto his face.

"Kindly blow it out your ass, Knight-Lieutenant!" Zarihn snapped at the Templar. He brought his steel-toed boot up between his legs sharply, bringing Torrance to his knees. Varric and Solas looked impressed with his actions and Varric nearly applauded. Even Cassandra looked somewhat pleased.

Agronaak could not keep the smile off his face. "It is fortunate that you got to him before I did, Zarihn. I do not believe I would stop at merely damaging his testicles." At this, Torrance looked as though he might piss himself, and actually did so, and Agronaak simply had to chuckle. "If you have anything left for him, I permit you five minutes up there, and then we move on. Time is of the essence… if you choose to use them, I'm sure you'll use the five minutes wisely."

"He's not worth the time. I have more important things to do. Like acting important and shitting." Zarihn said, jumping down from the stage and walking to his horse. "Let's go find our contact, then." He remounted his horse and the five rode away from the bloodied, piss-stained, infertile Templar laying on the ground.

After hours of running around looking for the red handkerchiefs mentioned in the letter, they arrived at an empty courtyard off of the market.

"This whole place just reeks of ambush." Varric said.

"A very astute observation, dwarf," a man in an Orlesian noble's outfit with a mask said as he emerged from the shadows with a group of men in armor surrounding him.

"See? What did I tell you? Ambush." Varric said, pulling Bianca off his back with a sigh.

"You sound so sure of yourself that you will survive this encounter." The nobleman said. "Now!" He motioned for the soldiers to attack and they charged at the Heralds and their companions.

"When will people learn?" Zarihn asked, drawing his blades from the scabbards on his chest and advancing.

Agronaak sighed, drawing his own weapons. "I fear that is a question we may never know the answer to." Springing into action, he leapt forward and smashed a guard's faceplate in with the hilt of his sword.

"I think the day we know the answer to that will never come." Cassandra mused, twirling his sword and charging at the attacking soldiers. Zarihn laughed and jumped into the air, drop kicking a soldier in the chest and burying his curved dagger into it. He flipped his blades over and threw them at another pair of guards armed with crossbows before he sprinted at another and leapt into a handspring, landing on the soldier's shoulders with his head between Zarihn's legs. He jerked sideways and snapped the man's neck and let him crumple to the ground, running quickly to get his daggers.

Agronaak watched with a fellow warrior's reverence at the skill with with Zarihn took down his opponents. While not as big or strong as many fighters, his agility and skill more than made up for it. He was a force to be reckoned with, to be sure, and half the nobleman's guards were already dead because of him. He found himself admiring Zarihn's smooth, calculated, brutal strokes as he absentmindedly rammed his own blade through a soldier's neck. Spinning to grab a guard in a chokehold, he watched the elf's blade sail through a soldier's eye slit as he flexed his biceps once, snapping the guard's neck. They made a good team. The nobleman turned and started to run from the scene of his ambush gone horribly wrong, but stopped abruptly and collapsed to the ground with an arrow protruding from his face. Agronaak and Zarihn both looked at Varric, but he just shrugged. That was not his ammo, and it wasn't facing the right direction to have come from him.

An elven woman with cropped, dirty blonde hair walked out of a corner and scowled at the corpse. "Blah blah blah… nobles are important… yak yak yak… arrow in my face…" She muttered, walking over to the dead man and yanking the arrow out of his head. "Bloody numbskull broke my best arrow, he did!"

Zarihn quickly finished off the last guard and turned to the woman. "Sorry, who are you?" He asked.

"I'm Red Jenny." She said, completely deadpan. "Who the bloody fuck do you think I am, shitehead?"

"You're the agent, aren't you?" Zarihn asked rhetorically. His brow furrowed and he looked at her strangely. "Hang on… Sera?"

"Blight Boy?" She asked. "Bloody fucking hell, it's you, isn't it?"

"You bet your ass it is." Zarihn said, walking over to her with a ridiculous grin on his face. He held his hand out to her in a fist and she bumped hers against his.

"Where the fuck did you get off to?" Sera asked, laughing at nothing.

"Got roped into the Inquisition. Some shit about being the 'Herald of Andraste.'" He replied, laughing with her.

"I know! Bloody hell, I saw you yelling at that pompous bitchy Templar in the market, and shite was that brilliant!" Sera exclaimed giddily. "After I heard about you being one of the Heralds, I thought you'd become a bastard like him. Glad you haven't changed. Still an impulsive little shite, I see."

"Oh, you know me too well, Sera." Zarihn said.

"Who is this?" Cassandra asked him, a note of jealousy in her tone. "And old lover?"

Zarihn and Sera looked at each other for a while before they each burst out laughing. "She… she thinks… oh, Maker…" Zarihn panted between bouts of laughter.

Sera managed to stop laughing long enough to speak. "See, he and I aren't lovers. Lovers have to have something in common, and what we have in common is that we both like women."

Cassandra raised her eyebrows at them. "I see." She said, blinking slowly.

"You've got it in for her, haven't you?" Sera whispered to him.

"Yeah. Can you blame me?" He asked. "She's so…"

"Fucking hot?" Sera finished for him.

"Exactly."

Agronaak's ears pricked at this, and he had to fight to suppress a laugh. "Heh… well, heheh… anyway, Red Jenny. Sera. Whatever you like. It is nice to watch long-separated friends reunite, and very amusing to hear your comments-"

"What comments?"

"Shut up, Cassandra. But you called us here for a reason. There's a time to exchange pleasantries and that is after our business is concluded."

Sera giggled, elbowing Zarihn in the ribs. "Oi, Horny Boy here, Mountain Man, Chuckles McGee, he must be such a joy at parties. Always right to business with you, innit? Play only once all the work's done with? How boring are you?" Agronaak felt a twinge of annoyance at her teasing, but managed not to show it. Varric made a valiant attempt to stifle his laugh. "But if you're really serious about it, Herald, I guess I'll be borin' for a bit."

"For shame, Sera!" Zarihn exclaimed, feigning shock. "You? Boring? Perish the very thought!"

Sera giggled for a half minute or so but then straightened up. "Anyway, right to the good stuff, yeah? So, I can get the Friends of Red Jenny on your side, but it's gonna cost ya."

"What is it going to cost us?" Cassandra asked warily.

"My usual fee for the hot ones is a night in bed, but I'll have to come up with something else, yeah?" Sera said, winking at Cassandra. "Anyway, I want you all to keep some goals, right? Try an help people. I don't wanna be helping no self-serving pricks to take over Orlais. Well… Orlais is already run by a buncha self-serving pricks, but fuck it. You see what I'm gettin' at, don' ya?"

"Can someone translate?" Solas asked. Varric smacked him on the back of the head.

"Come on, Sera!" Zarihn chided, punching her arm. "What kind of idiot do you take me for?" Sera opened her mouth to say something snarky but Zarihn cut her off. "Don't answer that."

"Spoilsport…" Sera pouted.

"IF WE CAN MOVE ON…" Cassandra shouted at them, "we need to get moving. Leliana will no doubt have more reports by now."

"Leliana?" Sera asked. "Sounds Orlesian. Love Orlesian girls… so prim and proper, 'til you tear all that off, that is."

"And she's a redhead." Zarihn informed her.

"Dibs." Sera said immediately.

"No fair!" Zarihn exclaimed, punching her arm again.

Cassandra shook her head and walked out of the courtyard with Varric and Solas close behind, all of them looking disappointed in an attempt to hide their amusement.

Agronaak looked at Sera curiously. "So… we have the Friends of Red Jenny as allies now?"

Sera pretended to give the question lots of deep thought. "Yeah, s'pose ya do. 'Specially now that I know Blight Boy's a fuckin' Herald of Andras-titty or whatever the fuck, I mean SHITE, mate!"

"Aw, shut it, Sera!" Zarihn said playfully.

"Make me." She retorted.

"You couldn't handle me." He said.

Sera laughed at him. "Probably could. 'Member that party on the north coast? A bit too much wine and an empty tent…"

"Don't you fucking remind me, Sera." Zarihn warned her.

"I have a feeling the things you two experienced are not fit to be heard by the general population," Agronaak said, smirking. "But anyway, does this mean you'll be coming back with us to Haven, Sera? We could use a representative of our allies there, and it's obvious Zarihn would love to have you."

The elf looked surprised, then laughed uproariously. "I've half a mind to do just that, Herald. Wondrous idea. He'll never be rid of me again."

Zarihn feigned horror. "Whatever will I do with you there?"  
"Whine to me about the Seeker and stare at my arse." Sera said, completely accurate.

"You know me so well, Sera." Zarihn said with a sigh.

"Better than I'd like to." She said, with a knowing smile.

"By Arishok's phallus, you two are too much for me to handle," Agronaak muttered. "I feel as though I should leave while you catch up. I would not want to 'kill the vibe.' I shall let you two reconnect." He picked up his pace, hurrying to catch up with the rest of the group.

When he reached Varric, Cassandra, and Solas, he was amused and unsurprised to see Varric tormenting Cassandra about her previous comments. "A former lover? Really, Seeker?" He asked, chuckling. "How much more obvious can you get?"

"Be quiet, Varric!" She snapped.

"Oh, come on, Seeker." He said, continuing his teasing. "Why don't you just admit it?"

"Fine! Lord Herald Zarihn is quite attractive and I found myself feeling jealous." Cassandra hissed at him. "Are you happy now, dwarf?"

"Very." Varric said smugly.

Agronaak noticed the embarrassed look in her eyes, the way she looked slightly at the ground now, a tinge of - what was it, shame? -, and his levity faded. He turned to the smirking dwarf. "Varric..." He said, "I think you may wish to lay off her a little bit. I don't think she is entirely comfortable discussing matters of attraction..." Varric regarded him curiously, but nodded in agreement. Agronaak noticed Cassandra glance over at him, and though she did not say anything, he saw the appreciation in her eyes.

A short distance back, Sera and Zarihn were having a very serious conversation about the Seeker's backside.

"It looks a bit tight…" Sera remarked, looking her up and down at a distance. "I think you'd definitely want to take the front."

"Would you stop that?" Zarihn asked, slapping the back of her head.

"I'll stop it when you finally admit your feelings and fuck her, you shitehead." Sera retorted.

"I'll admit my feelings and fuck her if you stop." He said, narrowing his eyes.

"Fine." Sera groused. "Buzzkill…"

"It'll happen eventually, Sera." Zarihn assured her, gazing at Cassandra. "Eventually…"


	6. Chapter 6: The Grey Warden

Zarihn walked around the battlements of Haven's walls quite, standing on the narrow ledge and balancing perfectly. Dozens of soldiers milled around outside the walls, practicing drills with their blades. They were markedly better than they had been before, and their archers were vastly improved as well. Every so often an arrow would fly through the air at Zarihn and he would draw his dagger and deflect it at the last moment, just to mess with them. Although he suspected it was Sera who fired most of them.

On one particular day, he was walking on the walls when Cassandra climbed onto the wall beside him. "Lord Herald." She said politely, bowing.

"You can call me Zarihn, Cassandra." He said, chuckling dryly.

"Of course, my lor- Zarihn." She corrected herself.

Zarihn smiled faintly. "Was there something you wanted, Cassandra?"

"Not in particular." She replied, hopping up onto the ledge and walking aimlessly. "I just wanted to talk, that is all."

"You can talk to me anytime." Zarihn said kindly.

"Thank you." Cassandra said, the scar on her cheek shifting back as she smiled. "I just wished to ask if you might want to-"

She was cut off when Cullen called up to them from the ground. "Lord Herald! Seeker Pentaghast! Leliana has called a meeting in the keep!"

Cassandra cursed quietly and climbed down off the ledge. "Of course, Commander Cullen. We'll be there shortly." Zarihn sighed and jumped down onto the walkway with her, and the pair of them walked back to the keep together.

Inside, Josephine stood at the map table, talking in a hushed voice with Leliana; something about Grey Wardens. Agronaak was off to one side, a brooding expression on his face as he contemplated something silently. Leliana looked up as Cassandra and Zarihn entered, suddenly falling silent.

"Seeker." She said, acting slightly odd.

"You were talking about him, weren't you?" Cassandra said sadly.

"No." Leliana said, obviously lying. "Alright, yes. Can I help it if I want to talk?"

"I suppose not." Cassandra said, sighing. Zarihn, Josephine, and Agronaak wisely remained silent.

Leliana walked over to Cassandra and started talking to her quietly. "I understand this is hardly the time or place but…"

"I understand." Cassandra said. "He was your friend. The whole of Thedas mourned his loss."

Leliana nodded and wiped away something that was definitely not tears and straightened upright. "Anyway…" She started, walking back to the map table and pointing out the Ferelden Hinterlands. "My scouts have given me reports of an Orlesian Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall has been seen around the Hinterlands, looking for recruits. The Inquisition could use someone like a Grey Warden, particularly one with Blackwall's set of skills."

Agronaak grumbled. "A Grey Warden, hmm? Yes... Yes, the Inquisition could use allies in the ranks of the Wardens. It is never a bad idea to have them on your side, I suppose." He looked at Leliana. "So the Warden, Blackwall, he is located back in the Hinterlands... Very well. What are these " particular skills" he has? In addition, does anyone here explicitly object to having a Warden of apparent skill amongst our ranks?"

"I knew a Grey Warden once." Zarihn piped up. "He was a mage from Amaranthine. Anders, I think his name was. Rather nice fellow… if a bit rough." He smiled at the memory. "In all seriousness, I think it'd be quite useful to have this 'Blackwall' working for us."

Leliana continued on, ignoring him. "These skills I mentioned are rather peculiar. He doesn't seem to fall victim to any of the negative effects of the Blight that other Grey Wardens do. And he seems to have a knack for leadership, from what I have heard."

"Grey Wardens are an honorable lot," Cullen said. "I've met a few here and there; good people. And if this one is a good, experienced leader, well, we don't have many good, experienced leaders in our military forces, do we? He could prove a valuable asset."

"I, too, do not see a reason we should not recruit him," Cassandra said. "He seems like just the man the Inquisition needs, especially when we're such a fledgling organization." Josephine nodded her head in agreement.

"Then we are all in agreement?" Leliana asked. "If so, the council is dismissed; pack your bags, Heralds."

"Oh, joyous day! Another three weeks on the road!" Zarihn said, mocking cheerful..

"Have fun in the southern rain." Cullen said, smirking at him.

"Oh, I will, Commander. I'll make sure I get good and wet." Zarihn said, giving Cullen a wink. That certainly shut him up. Zarihn laughed and turned away from the map table. "I'll get Sera and Varric. Agronaak, round up the horses."

Cassandra watched as he left with a pained expression, as though she wanted to say something, but couldn't. "I'll… I'll gather some provisions…" She said glumly, walking out one of the side doors.

"I need to make sure that Orlais doesn't collapse on itself whilst you're gone." Josephine said, sighing and walking back to her office.. "Maybe I can talk to Gaspard…"

"I.. um… have to go… do a… a thing…" Cullen said, hiding his face in his cloak and practically running out of the room. Leliana departed silently, and Agronaak had a private chuckle at everything that was going on. Not many things genuinely amused him, but Zarihn and his interactions with the others always elicited laughter from him. Especially the ones with Cassandra. Those two had one of the most interesting chemistries he had ever seen, not that he paid particular attention to romance. Oh, who was he kidding? He shipped in more than the East Empire Company.

After calming down a little, the Qunari strode casually down the hallway, towards the stables. Passing one of the rooms, he noticed Leliana standing inside, bent over a map of what he believed to be Tevinter. She was completely engrossed in her work, her red hair shimmering in the candlelight. There was a slight furrow in her brow as she studied the map, her blue eyes darting back and forth. Such commitment to her work. A positive trait in anyone. Agronaak felt a small smile creep onto his face as he left her to her work and continued his walk.

Zarihn sat next to a campfire just off the old Tevinter Highway in the Ferelden Hinterlands, feeling sorry for himself. He had a flask in his hand, one of many that he always kept on his person, and he never told anyone what they were. Cassandra was on his mind again, as she often was, but there was a more pressing matter. The Friends of Red Jenny. Zarihn furrowed his brow and took another sip, coughing as it went down.

Agronaak, at his own campfire, gnawed at his travel rations. He was very displeased with the taste, but the brahmin shit they called provisions would remain edible for months yet, so it was too useful not to bring them along. Sera, Varric, and Cassandra sat together a ways off, exchanging stories; Sera spoke of her various female conquests, much to Cassandra's amusement and Cassandra's chagrin, and Varric told them about some woman named Aveline, while Cassandra remained silent except to laugh at Varric's jokes. Sera, by contrast, was loud and boisterous and rather annoying, even at a distance. Cassandra had been eerily distracted this entire trip; Agronaak suspected what might be bothering her but did not wish to presume. He looked over towards Zarihn and wondered if the elf would enjoy some company. He had such a forlorn look on his face; it did not suit him.

As it happened, Zarihn, tired of drinking alone, stood up and walked over to Agronaak and sat down next to him. "Want a drink?" He asked, holding out the flask.

Agronaak gave a small smile. "I would be delighted," he said, taking the flask from Zarihn and taking a swig. Immediately he began to cough furiously; the liquid felt like fire as it went down, burning his throat. He had to admit, though… it felt strangely good.

"Careful, Rivaini." Zarihn said, chuckling. "Golden Scythe isn't something to swill. Especially not 4:90." He thought for a moment and then grabbed a second flask and offered it to Agronaak. "Maybe this is a bit more to your liking. It's a tad lighter."

Agronaak grunted, taking the other flask and giving the Golden Scythe back to Zarihn. Sipping from this second one, the Qunari was delighted to find a slightly less painful liquid contained within. It still burned, but it was more of a simmer, one could say, rather than the roaring flame of the Golden Scythe. In addition, Agronaak detected a slight fruity flavor, almost imperceptible. He gave a small chuckle. "Quite the contrasting liquors you have here, Zarihn. I'm surprised you even drink the Scythe; I find this one much more pleasant. What kind is it?"

"That flask you've got there is Carnal 8:68." Zarihn informed him. "Definitely a more palatable liquor, unlike the Scythe. Just be glad I didn't offer you the Sun Blonde Vint-1. It's strong enough to slay a druffalo, and if you ever see a man drink it, run for the hills." He took a sip and adjusted the sort of bandolier of flasks he wore across his tunic.

"I see," Agronaak said. "I shall have to remember the vintage. It is certainly something I'd like to procure more of." He fidgeted for a moment. "I… noticed you seemed somewhat forlorn over by yourself. Is there an issue you would like to talk about?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's just some of the Friends of Red Jenny." Zarihn said, waving dismissively. "Some of them seem to still hold a grudge after what happened in Antiva City."

Agronaak smirked. "I shudder to think about what might have happened, knowing what I do about you. Do you wish to discuss the problem?"

"Well, I suppose so." Zarihn said, shrugging and drinking a bit more. "The problem started about two years ago. Well, I suppose if you really want to get into it, it started two years before that, even. See, the main problem is that I never agreed with the Friends. The whole time, I saw their methods as brutal. Inhumane, even. Since my first assignment, I knew that. My first assignment with the Friends of Red Jenny was to assassinate Grand Duke Gaspard Du Chalons. Obviously I failed, seeing as he's still alive. And it was rather a lot to ask of a new recruit on their first job. The specifics were to break into Gaspard's mansion in the Emerald Graves, a beautiful estate, really, and murder him. I was told that I could do so in any way I saw fit, so long as it could not be traced back to me or the organization.

"So, what I did first was go shopping. It sounds vain, I know, but it was quite necessary. I got a nice tunic, a beautifully crafted mask, and a pair of boots." He paused and held up his right boot, which was ornately decorated and most definitely not suited for travel. "This pair of boots. After this, I decided to take my time preparing. I discovered that the most dishonorable Grand Duke was holding a masquerade. Oh, I had always wanted to attend one, and if I could go to one and commit a masterful murder as well, that worked out perfectly. So I spent a week on the road, practicing my accent and my refined Orlesian speech, all the while preparing a poison for the Grand Duke.

"Eventually, I arrived at the mansion, feeling utterly bored by the time I did so. Of course, the party did quite well to restore my spirits. It was quite the enjoyable affair, and it was rather useful to know the drinks and act refined for once. And besides, knowing the taste of every drink makes it easy to tell if it's been tampered with. The Grand Duke's eldest daughter lived up to her reputation as well, and I received quite an exciting private tour of the upstairs with her. But alas, the night wore on, and it came time to deal with Gaspard. I learned his favorite drink, Abyssal Peach 5:19, and snuck down to the cellar to retrieve a bottle for his lordship, slipping a bit of ground embrium into it, making it more deadly than the Grey Plague. I brought it upstairs and made sure that the footman was seen pouring it, and that I was on the other side of the room whilst it was being drunk.

"Before I continue, I take it that you heard about this?" Zarihn asked Agronaak. "The Chalons Mansion Mystery Malady? The people do come up with such fantastical names for things, I know..."

"Indeed, somewhat," Agronaak replied. "A dozen guests becoming violently ill and eventually dying at one of Gaspard's more extravagant parties. I take it your botched operation had something to do with that?"

Zarihn nodded solemnly and took another drink. "Gaspard elected to be charitable for once and gave the ridiculously expensive bottle to his guests to share. There was just enough for the twelve most reputable guests, and they drank without an inkling of anything wrong. Near the end of the party, they all fell horribly ill, and at the time it was simply blamed on the long-dead vinter of the drink. Gaspard lived, his guests died, and I fell out of favor with the Friends of Red Jenny. Of course, that wasn't the only problem I had from with the Friends. Just the first. I was demoted to lesser jobs for two kriffing years before they finally let me have another decent assignment.

"When they finally let me have a good job, it was around the time that the kingdom of Antiva was in turmoil again. You see, the king had died, and he left all of his money and everything else to his oldest son, including the title. But, to his other son, he left something else. A cell of the Antivan Crows. The younger son promptly began murdering his way through the complexities of the Antivan royal family in order to become king. His brother, however, caught on to the plot and hired several Crow cells to defend himself. In order to defeat his brother's now superior forces, the younger brother hired the Friends of Red Jenny to fight the other Crows. I was one of the ones who was unlucky enough to go along on this mission.

"After we arrived in Antiva City, we were quickly directed to a secret entrance to the palace. Once inside, everything was simple. Kill the king and the Antivan Crows, leave, and then get paid. But that didn't mean it was going to work out simply. I went in with the Friends and the Crows on our side and fought my way through our adversaries and somehow managed to get to the king's private quarters, where we found him with his family. I knew that the Antivan Crows could be brutal at times, but I never thought that the Friends of Red Jenny would stoop to their level. I was ordered to kill the king, his wife, his sons, and his newborn daughter so that there would be no new king aside from the younger brother. I refused. I was told that I should leave, and when I refused to do that as well so that I might retain some honor, they attacked. I ended up being kicked off a balcony with a dagger in my back; a most unpleasant way to be fired, I assure you. This, obviously, terminated my employment with the Friends of Red Jenny. Not that I would want to work with such detestable people as that." Zarihn scowled and quickly drank the rest of the Golden Scythe.

Agronaak watched him chug his entire flask. It must have been an inferno in his throat, but the elf did not seem to care. He kept silent for a moment longer in thought. Zarihn looked at him expectantly but shrugged and put away the flask and took out another one with a blue rune carved into it. Eventually, Agronaak spoke. "You've been through some shit," he said simply, taking a quick drink from the flask of Carnal. "I now understand better why you were so hesitant to work with the Friends of Red Jenny again. Had I been aware of what they had required you to do, I may not have vouched for allying with them. Are you sure you are okay with the decision? It is good you got to see Sera again, but… is that enough consolation?"

Zarihn turned the flask over in his hand again. "I hope so. Sera is good enough person, and I'm glad she's running things now. From what I've seen, things are different. Sera wouldn't have kept on with the Friends of Red Jenny if she knew what they were really like. Maybe she found out and took control, but I'm not so sure." He looked at the flask in his hand intensely, as if it held answers to all his inner questions. "But if they are still the same, then I'll make sure to change that. Or else die in the attempt."

Agronaak nodded. "Murderers of children are not people I shall ever knowingly associate with. I may have to join you in your pursuit, should it come to that." He finished off the flask of Carnal. "But… I hold a slightly more optimistic view. I doubt it shall come to that… I hope not… but if it does, rest assured I will not stand for it."

Zarihn tore his eyes away from the flask and smiled up at Agronaak. "I thank you for this. It's not often that I have someone on my side."

Agronaak smiled back. "You are most welcome. It is an honor to be on your side." He gazed up at the night sky briefly, admiring the few constellations he knew - he was not really one for stargazing. After a few moments of silence, he lightly slapped Zarihn on the back. Or, at least it would have been a light slap for a Qunari. The small blow sent Zarihn falling onto the ground. Agronaak gave a short, barking laugh before speaking. "So, Comrade Herald, how did your nerves fare on this second trip to the Hinterlands? You were positively frothing by the time we got here the first time round."

"I expect that this next trip will be far more enjoyable." Zarihn said, standing upright. "Let's hope this Blackwall fellow proves to be worth our time." He looked down at the flask in his hand again, as though he wanted to drink, but couldn't.

Agronaak noticed that Zarihn kept gazing at the flask with the blue rune on it. "I see you've been gazing at that flask for a while now. Any particular reason you are not drinking it?"

"I'm not drinking it because it's poisoned." Zarihn informed him. "This is the last remaining flask of Abyssal Peach 5:18, and it has been tainted with pure, ground embrium petals."

Agronaak arched an eyebrow. "You stole some of Gaspard's priceless tainted Abyssal and now carry it around with you? Why in the world would you want to keep it? You cannot even enjoy the drink."

"I keep it on my person in case I need it." Zarihn said. "You know, really need it. If I know the end is inevitable and I just want a last drink, or if…" he trailed off for a second and coughed, "or if I ever want to check out."

The Qunari was solemn for a moment. "Well… hopefully you do not want to check out any time soon. I enjoy your company. And I think many of the others need to laugh more than they do; you help them with that. You are worth more to our group than a glowing palm…" He paused for a moment, then smirked. "And besides, if you are dead, you cannot acquire Cassandra's backside. What a shame that would be."

Zarihn laughed, a bit of his old cheer returning. "I can't die without one last conquest now, can I?" He said, putting away the flask. "And what a conquest it'd be…" Zarihn sighed and looked over to where Cassandra stood. "Come on, Rivaini. We need to get our rest." He patted Agronaak and walked back to his tent, collapsing onto his bedroll and falling asleep almost immediately, bizarre dreams of peaches and Seekers drifting through his head. Agronaak gave one last chuckle at the elf's antics, then resigned himself to his own slumber. He called to the others to suggest that they turn in as well, and headed to his tent. Lying on his bedroll, he thought briefly about how he was perhaps the most fortunate Qunari in the world before his own fatigue overtook him.

Zarihn sat in his saddle on top of his horse on a ridge in the Hinterlands, staring at seemingly nothing. He had a bow in his hand a quiver over his back, which was rather odd, seeing as he never used a bow. He narrowed his eyes and looked intently at the top of another ridge a long distance away. Sera rode up next to him and looked in the same direction.

"You see 'im too, right?" Sera asked, squinting.

"Bet your ass I do." Zarihn replied. "You think that's our man?"

"Prob'ly, I think." Sera said. Agronaak also squinted, but could not see with such clarity as the elves could. Physiology and training, he supposed. However, he could see one figure standing in front of several others, who appeared to be performing acts in synchrony. Given Blackwall's supposed recruitment drive, he supposed this was a pretty likely candidate for their man.

"Think you can get a shot over there, Sera?" Zarihn asked, pulling a scrap of parchment from his cloak.

"Over there? Naw, you'd gotta be the surest shot from 'ere to 'ighever." Sera said, waving her hand dismissively.

Zarihn grinned and stuck the sheet of parchment onto an arrow. There were a few words scrawled across it, but they were in Orlesian, and Agronaak couldn't get a good look. "Bet you ten sovereigns I can get it over."

"Ten fucking sovereigns, shite, you're on." Sera said, confident that he couldn't make it. Zarihn smirked at her and notched the arrow, drawing it back and lining it up perfectly with the ground next to Blackwall. He released the arrow and sent it flying between the ridges before it landed directly in front of the Warden.

"Ha! Pay up, Sera!" Zarihn said, reaching his hand out to Sera.

"Oi, shut it!" She snapped, punching his arm.

Agronaak laughed. "Zarihn, this is not even your WEAPON and you continue to impress. Warden got our message, alright." Cassandra muttered something he couldn't distinguish. At the other ridge, the Warden had bent down to pick up the parchment and looked up at where they were, shielding his eyes against the midday sun. He eventually gave a barely perceptible motion for them to come over to where he was. Agronaak saw this and called for the rest of the group to move out. Zarihn laughed and lead his horse down to the other ridge with Sera following close behind, a disappointed look on his face. Cassandra smirked and followed at a distance, admiring, it would seem, Zarihn's backside. Varric noticed this but said nothing, instead muttering "I ship it" to Agronaak. The Qunari said nothing as well, but gave a rumble of agreement.

It took them a good half hour or so of riding to reach the other ridge, and Zarihn kept saying how he could just shoot them across, eliciting much snorting from Sera and a few amused exhalations from Cassandra. Nearing the house where they'd seen the figures, the group could plainly make out the gryphon-crest banner prominently displayed out front. They'd found the man, alright.

Warden Blackwall was a man of average height and aged somewhere in his late thirties, early forties, Agronaak suspected. The man had a vibrant, jet-black beard that was fairly well-kempt and a kind, somewhat forlorn look in his eyes. He stood in front of a group of new trainees, all learning basic combat maneuvers; most were having trouble getting the hang of it. He waved them over and spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, with a Fereldan accent, curiously enough, "So, you're members of this new Inquisition I've heard all about? A pleasure to meet you. Good work you're doing here. Name's Blackwall... But I suspect you already knew that."

"Warden Blackwall." Zarihn said, jumping down from his horse and bowing to the man. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir."

"I'm pleased waved see you don't live up to your reputation as being a sarcastic bastard, Lord Herald Zarihn." Blackwall said, remaining where he was.

"I see Blight Boy's reputation 'ceeds 'im." Sera said, giggling madly. Zarihn scowled at her.

"MOVING ON," Cassandra prompted, "Warden, we are seeking your aid against the demons that have emerged from the Breach."

"I never would have guessed." Blackwall said, apparently quite sarcastic on his own. "But from what I have seen already in the Hinterlands, the Inquisition has been doing excellent work so far. If you can keep that up, I'd be honored to join your Inquisition."

"Well that was quick." Zarihn remarked.

"Of course, I said if you can keep that up." Blackwall said, rolling his eyes subtly. "You've still got a bit of proving to do. Maker, I haven't even seen you fight yet!"

Zarihn stood upright and tilted his head to the side. "I think that's about to change." He sniffed the air. "Smell that?"

"Yeah…" Sera said, sniffing as well. "KInda like… rotting meat, almost… or blood… 's not a good smell…"

Blackwall's brow furrowed and he sniffed as well. "I hadn't even sensed any nearby…"

"What is going on?" Cassandra asked warily.

"Darkspawn." Zarihn said quietly, pulling the bow off his back and notching an arrow quickly.

Sure enough, a group of stunted, mutated humanoids burst out of the fringe of trees nearby, howling and shrieking as they charged. "Fucking shiteheads… ruining a perfect fucking day…" Sera muttered.

"Damn genlocks..." Blackwall grumbled, drawing his sword and shield and striding forward to meet them. "Recruits, fall back behind the house! You're not ready for combat yet. We'll handle this."

"Damn right we will." Varric said, loading Bianca and adopting a defensive stance as he leapt off his pony.

"Maker preserve us." Cassandra muttered, drawing her sword and charging with Blackwall. Zarihn grinned madly and sent a volley of arrows with Sera over Blackwall's shoulders as Varric started firing bolts rapidly.

Agronaak leapt off his own steed, bringing his weapons out. Rushing ahead with Blackwall and Cassandra, the three crashed into darkspawn line. It was an almost... surreal experience, fighting darkspawn. The creatures moved well enough like humans and knew how to use weapons, but there was something deeply primal, dark, and animalistic about every motion they made, every unholy gurgle and shriek that came out of their throats. These had once been humans, or dwarves, or some of them had at least, assuming they weren't spawned by one of the mythical broodmothers... But all humanity had been completely wiped from them. Agronaak felt no remorse as he violently cleaved a darkspawn's head from its body. Zarihn, on the other hand, was entirely detached from the situation at hand. He fired arrows with an almost bored expression, languid and tranquil. Despite his outward appearance, he was in a sort of turmoil over slaying these creatures. He thought briefly of Denerim, and of Evanna, but quickly pushed the thoughts aside and kept attacking.

The group of darkspawn was fortunately not very large, and within a short amount of time they had been cleared out. Their tainted blood, off-color and putrid-smelling, coated Agronaak and Cassandra's weapons; the bastards could certainly bleed. Blackwall, breathing slightly heavy, laughed and gave the Qunari a slap on the back. "That was exhilarating! Unexpected and 100% a concern that needs to be further addressed - I still don't know how I didn't sense them - but exhilarating nonetheless." He turned to Zarihn, smiling. "Well, I've seen you fight now, my Lord Heralds. If the Inquisition's enemies have to stand against that all the time, then I'll stand with you. Your foes don't stand much of a chance."

"Demons and tavern wenches will fall to their knees before us!" Zarihn said, laughing. In the background, Cassandra rolled her eyes and shifted uncomfortably. "We're glad to have you, Warden Blackwall. Welcome to the Inquisition."


	7. Chapter 7: The Tal-Vashoth

**AN: Sorry about the day-late update. I was indisposed last night and my computer was not available to me. But hey, here it is now. Enjoy!**

For once, Haven was silent. Agronaak was asleep on his bed, Josephine had passed out in the middle of writing a letter, Cullen was looking over casualty reports in his office, and Leliana was outside in her tent reading scout reports. Sera was engaged in a drinking contest with Blackwall and Varric, while Solas sat in his cabin researching the Fade as he always did. Zarihn, however, was otherwise occupied with doing serious work. He was currently sitting at his desk, illuminated by candlelight, looking over region reports of Ferelden, namely the Fallow Mire and the Storm Coast, where they had already been. Zarihn glanced over the reports briefly before throwing them aside and rubbing his eyes tiredly, reaching for a glass next to him full of some amber liquor. He reached over for another report and accidentally knocked over another glass, leaving it to fall to the floor and shattered.

"Fucking cheap piece of shit!" Zarihn exclaimed, realizing his outburst only too late. He heard a shifting going on behind him, and turned to see Agronaak's figure moving in his bed. Grunting displeasedly at being woken up at such an ungodly hour, the large Qunari slowly sat upright in his bed. His face, hidden mostly by shadow at the moment, made a curious expression.

"Zarihn," he said somewhat groggily, "It must be two in the morning by now. I think it is time to take a break for the night. What could be so important that you continue to work on it while the rest of the town sleeps?"

Zarihn shrugged. "I couldn't sleep, and I had a few extra flasks." He said, grabbing a spare glass for himself before turning over another paper. "Want a drink? It's Westcliffe brandy…"

Agronaak snorted. "Brandy past midnight… an awful idea, to be sure…" He considered it for a moment. "Mmmm, fuck it," he eventually said. "I am already awake, and perhaps you need someone to keep you company. Let us drink and review these things that are so important to you."

Zarihn laughed and poured a second glass for Agronaak and handed it to him. "But there is something, actually." He said, pulling a sheet of parchment from the pile on his desk.

Agronaak took a sip from his glass, and had to admit that he enjoyed the taste of the alcohol. If it did not dull his senses in large quantities, perhaps he would drink more. "Alright, Comrade Herald. What does it say? It is obviously of some note if it keeps you up so late."

Zarihn cleared his throat and read the letter aloud.

 _"To whom it may concern (that means you, dumbshit),_

 _I am the Iron Bull. Do not ask my name, because I'm not telling you. I command a mercenary company, the Bull's Chargers, and we've taken an interest in you, Inquisition. My company is available for a just a short while, and we'll only work for you. We are highly skilled, and that's not just talk. If you want to recruit us, come to the Storm Coast within four weeks of this letter's delivery. We will only join your forces if the Heralds of Andraste themselves are there to greet us._

 _Now hurry before I freeze my horns off._

 _-The Iron Bull"_

Zarihn looked up from the letter and took a drink. "Well, it's quite possibly a trap. Have you heard of this 'Iron Bull' before?"

"Iron Bull…" Agronaak paused for a moment. "Iron… Bull… Well, I believe I have. The Bull's Chargers are a mercenary company of some renown, famous for a record number of successful jobs, as well as a record for minimal losses over a two-year period. I hear tell that they even tangled with a giant once. I'm not sure if they killed it; rather, I believe they lured it out of its cave for a posturing Orlesian noble. Poor sap got eaten, but that's irrelevant. I don't know much else about them, but something tells me we may want them on our side. Also, I believe their leader is a Qunari, judging by the name. I may be able to speak with him and help talk him into helping us, if he's not totally willing."

"Well, it seems to me that he's willing to join the Inquisition. Provided that this isn't a trap." Zarihn said, drinking again and smiling faintly. "Y'know, the only other Qunari I met aside from you was some fellow named Sten. Of course, that wasn't his real name, but that's what he went by. Bit rough. He bit a lot, but that's beside the point."

Agronaak nearly choked on his brandy, laughing harder than he should have. He had to resist the urge to spit his drink out. "Well then," he said, still laughing, "That is an interesting thing to know. There are not many Qunari who do anything same-sex-related, mostly because there are strict laws in the Qun about mating. Qunari do not mate for pleasure, did you know? All sex is regulated and pre-planned to ensure the most efficient offspring."

Zarihn grimaced and took another swig. "That sounds awful." He said, filling his glass up again. "A life without sex…" He shuddered. "I can scarcely imagine." He chuckled and sipped his glass pensively. "While we're on the subject, have you ever…" Zarihn trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his left hand.

Agronaak raised his eyebrows slightly. "Had sex?"

Zarihn took a long drink. "That's the one."

Agronaak took a long drink from his cup, draining it. "Well, sex... Simply put, yes. But it's a little more complex than just that. As you and Varric know, and love to remind me, I was born in Rivain, a country that follows the Qun. The farther south one goes, the less noticeable it is, and by the time you reach the coast it is almost like the Qunari had never invaded. But you see, I was born along the northern border, and let me say that it might as well be official Qunari territory up there. There is not so much different there from Par Vollen, from the secret police to the reeducation camps... to the breeding programs.

"Like I said, one does not 'make love' under the Qun; one does not even casually 'screw.' Anyone who does is reeducated, and if a child is born of this unsanctioned sex, it is taken away like with all the other children. So when I was... twenty, I think I was, they brought me to a breeding center. High masculinity, good physical condition and martial prowess; I was a wonderful candidate.

"So I go to this breeding camp and they introduce me briefly to the woman I shall be bedding and I remember thinking I would like to at least talk to her beforehand, know who I was about to impregnate, you know, but neither she nor the supervisors were interested in this. I was warned that I had better proceed with the process promptly or I would be "persuaded" to hurry on. So I fucked her." He poured another glass for himself. "It was quick and dirty and I felt nothing while it happened. I could not imagine that this was how the union between a man and a woman was meant to be. So... clinical, so calculated. We were not doing this for love. We were doing this because our traits would combine to create a well-suited child.

"I left Rivain a few years later for various reasons that I shall perhaps tell you about later, and at some point I happened upon a whorehouse. I thought, 'This is it, their job is to act like they love it, perhaps you will feel at least something from this experience.' So I paid for a whore and she whispered sweet nothings into my ear, told me how strong and handsome I was, complimented my genitals far more than I imagined she might... Let me do it however I wanted... And nothing. Nothing at all. It was nice, sure - it felt great. But it did not feel as though it should.

"I had a few more experiences with other whores here and there, so I suppose you could say that yes, I've had a fair amount of sex. But... It is not enough for me. It has never been..." He searched for the word as he drained another cup. "It has never been... What is the word I am looking for, Zarihn?"

"Tender?" He asked. "Caring? Loving? Emotional?" Zarihn filled Agronaak's glass back up. "You poor man… you need to find yourself a girl before the world ends."

Agronaak chuckled. "Perhaps I do. And perhaps I need to stop drinking so much of this brandy before I tell you about my experience with two Nevarrans and a dracolisk..."

"Oh, if I could tell you the number of times I've been in that position…" Zarihn said, smiling faintly. "Actually, only once. I make a point not to use the same position twice." He smirked and put the stopper back in the flask of brandy. "Tell you what. You can have this, since you seem to like it so much, but you've got to share with someone. Sister Leliana, perhaps."

Agronaak smiled faintly. "Ah yes. Who else?" He said jokingly. "I always pictured her to be more of a wine drinker, but perhaps she shall make an exception for brandy of this caliber. Thanks for the gift."

Zarihn grinned and handed the flask to him. "And one more thing." He said, laughing at seemingly nothing. "If you ever need some advice with her, or anyone, ask me. I'm sure I'd be able to help."

The Qunari's smile grew wider. "I shall keep that in mind. You are a good friend, Zarihn. And…" he hesitated. "...though you perhaps may not be able to see it so often, you're a pretty decent man yourself. Remember that, yes?" Fed up with sentimentality after a moment, he grunted and gave the elf a light pat on the back - a real light one this time; he made sure Zarihn did not slam his face into the desk. "But enough... Sappy shit, hmm? What are these other documents of yours?"

Zarihn picked up a short stack of parchment. "I've been compiling the proper forms for hiring the Bull's Chargers." He informed Agronaak. "Cassandra, Sera, Varric, and Blackwall already know that we're going to the coast tomorrow, so I've just been trying to get everything in order."

Agronaak grunted. "Alright, that is good. Do you require assistance with any of it? More importantly, are you almost done? It really is terribly late."

"I've already finished." Zarihn told him, chuckling. "All that's left is to have Bull sign everything and he's officially joined."

"Well then, you crazy bastard, let's get to bed. No use wearing yourself out for nothing." Agronaak rose to head back to his cot. Zarihn nodded absently and stumbled back to his own bed and collapsed on it, dreaming, as he always did, of Cassandra.

Zarihn trotted onto the beach of the Storm Coast, feeling genuinely pleased with himself for the first time in months. It seemed to him that the Inquisition was well on its way to success, he had honest friends for once, and Cassandra was finally warming up to him, at least in part, and this "Iron Bull" could prove to be very useful. The party rode up to a small campsite on the edge of the water, where they were greeted by a group of warriors of varying sorts.

Well, not exactly greeted. The warriors were engaged in battle with several simple bandits, who had likely spotted the camp and thought less of the inhabitants than they should have. Rather than an initial greeting, one of the mercenaries saw them out of the corner of his eye, shouted "Inquisition! Help us slaughter these pisspots!" and continued fighting.

"How very charming." Varric remarked, putting a crossbow bolt through one of the bandits' skulls.

"I know! Manners must be absolutely profuse among this company." Zarihn observed sarcastically, leaping from his horse and tackling a bandit to the ground.

"There is work to be done, if you two don't mind." Cassandra said as she rode down a pair of bandits.

"Oi! Penta-whatsit! Don't spoil the day!" Sera chided, knocking an arrow and aiming.

Agronaak quickly dismounted, leaping down and executing a combat roll, which, mind you, was somewhat awkward with horns. Drawing his sword and shield, he began to charge straight at a bandit, bellowing a war cry, and scared the bastard so stiff he did not even move when Agronaak barreled into him full-force, crushing him beneath eight feet of muscle and impaling him on his blade. Quickly picking himself up, he continued to fight for a time; a cleave here, a shield bash there, and so on. He lost himself in the mindlessness of it; these were clearly not skilled fighters. But, unfortunately, he became too distracted, and only barely heard the scuffing of a boot behind him in time to turn around and block an enemy's overhead swipe. The blocking angle threw Agronaak off balance, and the bandit would have been able to get in a shot at his chest were it not for the sudden and very unexpected axe slicing through his neck.

Agronaak was momentarily stunned; looking in the direction the axe had come from, he was faced with another Qunari, not too unlike himself. His skin was a light gray, his horns black and jutting outward from his head, and his face was rugged and scarred, with a light stubble growing and an eye patch over his left eye. Who else could this possibly be but their leader? "Iron Bull?" he inquired. The Qunari grunted in affirmation.

"This one certainly has a way with words." Zarihn said, striding over to them, covered in blood and grinning like mad, the last of the bandits finished off.

Cassandra leaned over to Sera and whispered. "This is not good."

"What d'you mean?" Sera asked.

"The blood isn't much of a deterrent." She replied simply.

"Oh, I know the feeling, Cassie." Sera said understandingly.

"I'm not supposed to have a 'way with words'." Iron Bull said simply, with a slight accent that neither Zarihn nor Agronaak could place. "I chop things in half for a living. Words aren't my strong suit."

Agronaak snorted. "That is a fair point. But anyway, Iron Bull. Thanks for saving me a moment ago. Quite a fine company of fighters you have assembled here - the Bull's Chargers, yes? And I trust you found our combat skills sufficient."

"Well, yeah. were alright, I guess." The Bull replied. "Ah, only teasing. You were all pretty good. Also, it's 'THE Iron Bull.' I like having an article at the front. It makes it sound like I'm not even a person, just a mindless weapon, an implement of destruction... That really works for me."

Zarihn smirked. "I bet you're very dangerous, Bull." He winked at him quickly.

Bull glowered at him for a moment, "I am. And please, Herald, not right now. You've got a nice ass, I'll give you that, but we're discussing business right now."

Zarihn laughed loudly and ran a hand through his hair. "Alright. Let's talk business, Bull. How much do you want for your…" He gave the Bull a quick glance up and down, "...services?"

Bull rolled his one good eye. "By Arigena's bountiful breasts, elf. You're clearly not the one I should be talking to." He turned to Agronaak. "Herald Qun'Maloc. As you can see, yes, we're the Bull's Chargers, and we're-"

Zarihn cut him off. "Ex-fucking-cuse you, the Iron Bull." He interjected indignantly. "While I can be sarcastic, of course, I can still take some things seriously."

Bull looked at him for a moment, eyebrow raised. He suddenly threw his head back and began to laugh, a deep, bellowing thing that left Agronaak and Cassandra confused as to what, exactly, was so funny. Zarihn stared at him grumpily while he finished. Finally calming down enough to talk, he began to speak. "Haha… ha… well, anyway. Alright then. You've got my attention, Herald Du Rien. Show me how you take things seriously."

Zarihn narrowed his eyes at the Bull and tried to look intimidating for being almost three feet shorter than him. "Well, the Iron Bull, how much would it cost to recruit your mercenary company?" He asked.

A mercenary in the background with short black hair and a pale complexion started laughing. "Seems he's got two modes, boss." He said in something of a high-pitched voice, the Tevinter accent prevalent. "Snarky little bitch and Orlesian fop."

"And it seems you've only got one mode, which is incompetent Tevinter moron." Zarihn shot back. The mercenary fell silent and a couple of the others snickered.

The Iron Bull glared at both men. "That's enough." He then began to speak to Zarihn. "The Bull's Chargers are not exactly a cheap 've seen us fight, and you've heard the stories. We'll accept no less than five hundred sovereigns, each, every month."

"From what I've seen and heard, that's quite reasonable, the Iron Bull." Zarihn said, extending his hand to the Qunari. "Do we have an accord?"

Bull hesitated for a moment. "One more thing you should probably know." Zarihn regarded him curiously. "I may be leader of a mercenary band, but I still follow the Qun. In fact, I am a member of the Ben-Hassrath, or the secret police, if you will. I have to be honest with you... I'll be relaying information about the Inquisition back to them." While the party narrowed their eyes, Zarihn remained unchanged.

"Go ahead and tell them. We've got nothing to hide." He said, shrugging.

The Qunari shrugged and kept going. "But don't worry; it's not one-sided. I'll be telling you information about them, as well as others I may be associated with. So you'll be getting some info leaked, but you'll be getting a lot more back. I had to establish this all before I signed anything; you understand, I'm sure. Do we still have a deal?" The elf considered for a moment, then nodded.

The Iron Bull laughed and grasped the elf's sizably smaller hand in a very firm shake. "We're willing to work, you're willing to pay, and you don't mind the security breach; hell yes we've got an accord, you sarcastic shit."

Zarihn grinned at him. "I think we'll get along famously, Bull." He said, turning back to Agronaak. In his way, he found the black-haired mercenary who insulted him before. "Hang on… Kremisius?"

"Zarihn?" Krem asked, shocked. "Um… shit… hey…"

"I didn't recognize you without the long hair or the… y'know…" Zarihn trailed off.

"Breasts?" Krem asked, laughing. "Yeah, I've changed a bit."

"Certainly not for the worst." Zarihn said, winking.

"STOP FLIRTIN' WITH EVER'ONE, YOU WHORE!" Sera yelled at him from atop her horse.

"I do what I like, Sera!" He yelled back. Krem laughed again.

Agronaak rolled his eyes amusedly. "Zarihn, we've been all over Orlais and Ferelden, met dozens of new people, and I swear at least one person in every town we visit has slept with you. It is better to ask who you have not slept with at this point." Cassandra gave a slight snort, but something seemed to be distracting her still. Likely the same thing that had been doing so for several weeks now. He hoped she would get the chance to just talk to him already; it pained him to see a friend hurting like this.

Blackwall had been curiously silent this entire time. He cleared his throat, and the rest of the group looked towards him, interested to see what he had to say.

"... You're all fucking insane, and the elf is a goddamned whore, he is." Blackwall said, as if it were simple fact. Which it was.

"Well… you're not wrong…" Zarihn said with a shrug. Sera burst out laughing hysterically and fell from her horse, rolling in the sand and laughing. Varric pretended to be occupied by cleaning Bianca, and Cassandra turned a subtle shade of scarlet.

Agronaak sighed. "A strange group of friends, I've made. Sorry, Bull. Cassandra!" he called. "You brought the contract, correct?" Cassandra nodded and fished the parchment out of her travel pack, careful not to let the persistent drizzle get it too wet. She brought it to Agronaak, along with a quill, and he proffered it to the Iron Bull, who smirked and signed it with a flourish.

"There," Bull said, mock-dusting his hands off. "The Bull's Chargers are now yours to command for as long as you see fit to use us. I hope we make you happy, boss. Now let's get smashed."


	8. Chapter 8: La Madame de Fer

Zarihn could dance. He didn't advertise this fact. At all. Ever. But he could. Rather well, if he thought so himself. At the present moment, he was in the empty war room, practicing a waltz with an invisible dancing partner. His eyes were closed, and he was "in the zone", as the phrase goes. He didn't even notice when the door opened and Agronaak walked in whilst he was in the middle of his dance.

Agronaak knew he should say something, he really did. But for some reason making his presence known at this moment did not seem as amusing as watching his fellow Herald move and sway around the place like a tit with no one as his partner. So he simply leaned against the wall, fishing out the flask of Carnal Zarihn had given him and taking small occasional sips as the elf continued his imaginary dance.

Zarihn's eyes snapped open and he sniffed the air. "Apricots." He muttered, turning around to see Agronaak. "What the bloody fuck are you doing here?"

"I could say the same to you," the Qunari retorted, smirking.

"How much did you see?" Zarihn demanded, prepared to fight the Qunari to defend the miniscule amount of honor that remained to him.

Agronaak began to chuckle lightly. "Oh, just a few minutes of it. Perhaps… three? Why? How long have you been going at it, all by your lonely self?"

"You shut your whore mouth, Rivaini." Zarihn snapped. "You. Saw. Nothing. Understood?"

"Oh, no, of course, Zarihn," Agronaak said, taking another swig of Carnal. "I would not dream of revealing your precious secret to anyone. Least of all Cassandra…" He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Zarihn narrowed his eyes and reached for the dagger on his hip. "Just try it, vashedan." He growled, the Qunlat words sounding bizarre in his Orlesian accent.

Agronaak raised an eyebrow at the elf, the smirk falling from his face. "Well then… I see." taking another sip from his flask, he then put the cap back on and put it on his belt. "My apologies for the words I spoke. I was merely jesting. You know I would never actually betray a secret you are so obviously uncomfortable sharing, do you not?"

Zarihn sighed and relaxed a bit. "Sorry I spoke so harshly, Rivaini. Besides, I don't think I'd survive a fight with you." He smiled dryly, trying to lighten the mood. "Anyway, I think Leliana was looking for us. We'd better go find her." Agronaak nodded and opened the door, holding it open and motioning for Zarihn to come along. They were off shortly thereafter.

Leliana was just outside the keep, in her usual position under a small structure held up with wooden poles. She was gazing intently at a map of Antiva when they arrived. As they drew closer, her body tensed ever so slightly for a moment before she realized who they were, at which point she relaxed again. Smiling faintly, she said, "My Lord Heralds. Thank you for joining me. I've received a letter from someone high in the Orlesian court, meant only for your eyes. I do not recognize whose crest it might be but the color of the wax and the intricacy of the design indicate someone important." She fished the letter out of her pocket. "Have a look."

Zarihn raised an eyebrow and took the letter from her. He opened it, cleared his throat, and read it aloud.

"This letter is meant for the eyes of Lord Herald Zarihn Du Rien and Lord Herald Agronaak Qun'Maloc only. This means no one else's, asinine cretins." Zarihn stopped and looked up. "Real charmer this one is." He said before continuing on. "My Lord Heralds. It is my honor to invite you both to a grand ball at my estate outside of Montsimmard. There is a most intriguing proposal I wish to inform you of, and we must discuss it at your earliest convenience. This ball shall be a rather high society event, if you will, and only the most prestigious guests may attend. You are, of course, allowed to bring guards and your own personal consorts or persons of that nature, if you must. I sincerely hope to see you there. Cordially, Madame Vivienne De Fer, First Enchanter of the Circle of Montsimmard." Zarihn frowned and looked up from the letter. "Certainly an interesting notice, to be sure."

Agronaak nodded. "Indeed. A Circle Mage, hmm? I did not expect one of those to contact us, a fairly fledgling organization, especially with something of a war on at the moment. I do wonder what she wishes to propose to us…" he paused in thought. "Leliana, do you have any idea what she might want from us?"

Leliana looked deep in thought, although to Zarihn's trained eye she could tell she was… examining… his comrade Herald. "Hmm? Oh, yes. La Madame De Fer is a highly skilled mage, and it could be quite possible that she is seeking an alliance."

Agronaak grumbled. "Perhaps. What could she hope to gain from such an accord? Protection from Templars, increased connections? Mages have never been my favorite people - and that's not because of the Qun. They are too cunning, too calculating… Solas is remarkably honest and frank, but most mages do not simply say what they mean. Of course if she is honest about wanting an alliance, the powers of a mage and her Circle are nothing to scoff at." He turned to Zarihn. "What do you think of this?"

"Mages have always been allies of mine. There were a few mages that I've known throughout my time. They all proved to be brilliant allies as well as fantastic in bed. Perhaps it's my natural charisma." Zarihn said, grinning. "Although… well, you see, I was in Kirkwall two years ago. When the Champion destroyed the Templars there. I don't know, I suppose I could just be getting soft, but I think this could work out well or the Inquisition."

The Qunari looked at Zarihn inquisitively. "You have truly been everywhere, haven't you…?" He cleared his throat. "Anyway. You two both hold that this may be a very good situation for the Inquisition. I have some minor qualms about it, but I believe that the reward may be worth the risk. There is a lot to be gained from magical allies."

"Depending on what sense of the word you're using, you've already got 'magical allies'." Zarihn said, winking at Agronaak. "And if we're going to a ball, I'd better get my tunic ready."

"You have a tunic suitable for a noblewoman's ball?" Leliana scoffed. "Somehow I doubt that." She crossed her arms are narrowed her eyes at him.

"Excuse you, Sister Nightingale." Zarihn said, mimicking her stance and somehow looking more effeminate than her. "I probably have nicer clothes than you do." He turned on his heel and walked out of the tent.

Leliana looked stunned, though Agronaak wasn't sure if it was because of the level of sass he had just unleashed on her in so concentrated a burst, or because he had referred to her as "Sister Nightingale." Either way, Zarihn had won that argument. Agronaak felt as though he should console Leliana in some way.

"Wha- I don't- I... " Leliana stammered, losing her cold demeanor for a few moments. Agronaak shifted awkwardly for a moment.

"Are you… alright?" he asked, his face showing discomfort at having to ask such a question.

Leliana smiled faintly, exhaling amusedly. "It's alright, Agronaak." She said, turning to him. "I suppose I should be used to that sort of thing." She frowned at a memory of the former Grey Warden Alistair. "Snarky little Fereldan…"

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing… simply remembering a man of similar attitude whom I used to travel with." She continued smiling as she looked into his eyes for a time. Agronaak looked back for a time, but soon grew uncomfortable.

"Leliana?"

The spymaster snapped out of it again, coughing and brushing a stray hair behind her ear. "Ahem. Anyway, Lord Herald, thank you, and your snarky friend, again for coming when I called. I shall leave you to your work now. One knows it is never done." She quickly looked back down at her map, gazing at it with a renewed intensity. Agronaak could not be sure, but were her cheeks… rosy? He decided that could not possibly be the case; it was simply a trick of the light. He quickly turned on his heel and strode off to see to other tasks.

About two weeks later, after a great deal of riding and whining from Zarihn, the Heralds arrived at La Madame De Fer's ball with Cassandra, Blackwall, and Varric. Zarihn dismounted his horse with a flourish. He was rather sharply dressed, despite Leliana's thought that he wouldn't be. Zarihn was wearing a dark black tunic with a red and black patterned vest over it, with buttons on the front that appeared to made of bone. He wore a black velvet half-cape about his shoulders as well as black trousers that were cut very tightly and a pair of black leather boots with a gold trim that had quite a lot of heel for a man to wear. Cassandra, against Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen's wishes, did not wear a dress. She wore a red military tunic with a blue sash across the front with more medals pinned on it than were probably earned by half the Orlesian army. Varric wore the same outfit he always wore, no matter how ridiculous he might look, and Blackwall was still wearing a set of dark plate mail.

Agronaak came dressed somewhat similarly to Zarihn; he wore a blue and black tunic with a slightly more militaristic cut than the elf's, with a high collar. The buttons shone silver in the moonlight, and his black pants were also tight, though not as much as Zarihn's. They certainly served to draw the elf's attention nonetheless. His boots were of a heavier make, almost suitable for stomping through muck, though with a tasteful silver trim. He also wore a dark leather belt with a silver buckle that held his midsection hostage. On this belt was the flask of Carnal. The Qunari pulled at his collar irritatedly as he dismounted the horse. "Well then… here we are."

"A marvelous place." Zarihn said, sauntering up to the main doors. "I wonder if Vivienne remembers me…"

"Now just why would she remember you?" Blackwall asked. Varric leaned over and whispered something to him. "Zarihn, you whore."

"Story of my life." Zarihn said wryly, walking through the door and into the main hall. A staircase was on either side and the room was filled with Orlesian nobles in masks and puffed up tunics. "Maker's Breath… we're surrounded by painted whores…"

"What a coincidence!" Varric exclaimed. "You'll fit right in!" Zarihn rolled his eyes and laughed.

Cassandra scoffed and looked around the room. "Where is our host?"

"It is traditional for host or hostess of an Orlesian ball to not appear until the end of the celebrations." Zarihn informed her.

"Well… come on, then." Varric prompted. "I need a drink before we do anything."

Hours into the ball, when it was nearing its close, Cassandra and Zarihn stood off to one side, drinking while their friends danced. Varric and Blackwall ended up embarrassing themselves to no end, but Agronaak seemed fairly competent. At present, Zarihn and the Seeker were engaged in a game of some sort.

"What about her?" Cassandra asked, gesturing to an Orlesian noblewoman dancing with her husband.

"Her and her husband." Zarihn replied, taking a drink from the glass in his hand.

Cassandra rolled her eyes dramatically and pointed to a pair of sisters chatting on the opposite wall. "Them?"

"Yes."

"Both of them?"

"At the same time."

"Maker, do you ever get around…" Cassandra muttered. "But I've noticed that lately… well…you haven't, really."

Zarihn sighed and took another drink. "Perhaps that's because I've got my eye on someone."

"Ah. I've noticed you and Josephine flirting…" Cassandra trailed off.

"It's not Josephine, Cassandra." Zarihn informed her.

"Then who?" She asked him.

"You can find the answer to your question in what I just said." Zarihn said, somewhat cryptically. Cassandra looked confused for a moment before realizing what he meant. The music died out just then and the musicians struck up a waltz. Zarihn set his glass down and stepped in front of Cassandra, holding his hand out to her. "May I have this dance, Seeker?"

She looked lost in thought for a moment and set her glass down. "Of… of course, Lord Herald." She took his hand and walked out onto the ballroom floor with him.

Despite Cassandra's initial misgivings, the dance went rather well. If a little… passionate… with his movements, Zarihn was an excellent dancer. He was holding her a little too close for this to be an obvious courtesy, and the poorly concealed bulge in his trousers was a dead giveaway of his true intentions. Even though she started the dance intent on not letting Zarihn gain the upper hand, it ended much differently. When the music finally died down, she was leaning down with her back to the ground and her left leg on the side of Zarihn's right. It was a rather compromising position. He slowly lifted her back onto her feet and smiled at her. She felt… strange with him gazing on her in such a manner. Not in a bad way, to be sure, but strange nonetheless. Zarihn smiled wider and straightened himself up, leaning in slightly, his lips almost brushing against hers. She was startled, and yet found herself leaning towards him. Just before their lips met, a bell sounded from the far end of the hall, breaking the silence and tarnishing that one moment between them.

"And now," an Orlesian announcer said, "Presenting Madame Vivienne De Fer, First Enchanter of the Circle of Montsimmard and advisor to Empress Celene!" There was a round of polite clapping as from a balcony overlooking the ballroom, Madame Vivienne entered and began to descend the steps connecting to the ground. She was a fairly young woman, average height, dark of skin, dressed in a long white gown that showed perhaps a bit too much skin and a metallic mask covering her face.

"Really, you're all too kind." She insisted, waving dismissively. Vivienne walked gracefully across the ballroom floor and over to where Agronaak stood. "Lord Herald Qun'Maloc, I presume?"

"That is correct, Madame Vivienne," Agronaak said, bowing slightly. "We are honored to have been invited to attend such a lovely ball as this. If you are looking for Herald Du Rien, you will find him over there." He turned to gesture at Zarihn and stopped cold when he saw him and Cassandra in such close proximity. He began to laugh but quickly reassumed control of himself, forcing his face to remain straight. "Ahem, yes, anyway. There he is. I suggest that once you have had time to socialize - it is your ball, after all - we three gather up and discuss the proposal you wrote about." Agronaak never was one for pleasantries, as Sera loved to remind him.

"Indeed, Lord Herald. Perhaps after your counterpart has departed, we might speak in private." Vivienne said, batting her eyelashes at him. "If you'll excuse me…" She brushed past him and gave him another glance before walking off to speak with her guests.

Blackwall rolled his eyes. "Whore," he muttered. Varric simply chuckled and eyed the Herald.

"I think she noticed your… pants there, Rivaini," the dwarf said, walking off to the refreshment table to get his sixth drink of the night, much to the astonishment of the other partygoers, who were already surprised at a dwarf being at their party. Agronaak was understandably a bit miffed.

Just a short while later, Vivienne called for the Heralds to join her away from the other guests. They walked out onto a stone balcony, the moon shining down on them.

Vivienne sighed and sat gracefully in an armchair. "So, now that the need for pleasantries has passed, I must say that you haven't changed a bit, Zarihn."

Zarihn smirked and leaned back against the balcony. "You look just as beautiful as ever, Madame. Although I'm afraid this conversation won't end in the bedroom. Not today, as it is."

Vivienne frowned. "Whyever not?"

"It's a bit difficult to explain, old friend." Zarihn said, sighing. "Shall we get right down to your proposal?"

"Of course, my dear." Vivienne said with a disarming smile. "I wish to aid your Inquisition, as you have no doubt guessed."

Agronaak didn't like her smile. It was too welcome, too open. He didn't trust her enough as it was. "Madame De Fer," he intoned, "how do you propose to do that? And while we are on the subject, why do you even wish to? We have no prior relations - well, okay, that is not true, you've screwed my fellow Herald, but that can be said for half the Thedosian populace. Why do you suddenly have the urge to aid our cause?"

"Because I, unlike most of my fellow mages and nobles, realize how much of a threat the Breach is." Vivienne informed him. "There are a few other matters that I wish to deal with as well. Aiding the Chantry. Reorganizing the Circles and the Templars. I believe that the Inquisition can be a force for good, especially in the aforementioned areas."

"You are a fan of the Chantry?" Agronaak asked. "Was your Circle experience particularly lax? I was under the impression there was little love for the Chantry within mage Circles, especially nowadays."

"Easy, Rivaini." Zarihn chided.

"Perhaps I may be slightly biased, having been treated better as the First Enchanter, but I think that a bit of change would suit the Circles very well. A change in their treatment of mages, perhaps." Vivienne said, only slightly honest.

"An admirable goal, Madame." Zarihn complimented, all the while trying to forget what he knew was beneath that gown.

Agronaak was highly displeased with how this was going. It was not as though Vivienne had done anything specifically wrong, but her openness unnerved him. He could not believe that her words were not sugarcoated beyond compare, and thus could not bring himself to be pleasant with her. There must be some sort of ulterior motive here… but it was no use thinking about it now. She had something else in mind, he was almost sure of it, but he believed that she wanted to aid the Inquisition. "Surely an alliance with a First Enchanter and advisor to the Empress Celene herself is not free," he said. "I assume there is a favor you request in return for your assistance?"

"Why don't we put a pin in that favor, Lord Herald." She said in something of a sultry tone. "Perhaps we can use that up later." Agronaak suddenly felt queasy.

"Urg…" The Qunari gulped. "Well. Anyway. I can certainly see why you would be useful to the Inquisition, especially if you are able to speak with other Circle mages and even the Empress of Orlais herself… I'm sure Zarihn is always willing to have another woman around…"

"A man would do perfectly well, Rivaini." Zarihn said, batting his eyelashes better than Vivienne could.

"I don't know, but I think a woman could do some good around here." Vivienne said thoughtfully.

Agronaak internally groaned. Was he the only man who only liked women on this entire continent? He brushed it aside for now, though. "Anyway. I believe that perhaps it is a good idea to enlist your services, at least for a time. Your connections are quite powerful. It will be useful to have you around." He turned to Zarihn. "And as I said, you are more than willing to keep female company… or male, I suppose…" He cleared his throat. "I agree to the alliance."

 **AN: And so end the consistent updates, potentially. My friend and I have not written anything new for the story in quite some time, but I will try and get him to rally and write more of the fic with me soon. I hope that I can give you Chapter 9 (halfway done before creative issues) by next Thursday. If not, my apologies, and I will try and get it out as quickly as possible. Either way, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	9. Chapter 9: The Tevinter and the Venatori

Zarihn and Cassandra had been avoiding each other. A lot. More than they should have been. Ever since the incident at La Madame De Fer's ball, Cassandra had been uneasy, and Zarihn seemed too eager to pick up where they had left off. At present, Zarihn was messing around on the battlements and trying to act important, which he was failing at miserably. Sera kept firing arrows over and around his head. She was quite the awful shot, really. Another arrow soared past his hair and grazed the tip of his ear before it landed on the stone walkway in front of him. He yelped in surprise and looked down at the arrow. Zarihn found that it had a sheet of parchment attached to it, and there appeared to be something scrawled across it. He raised an eyebrow, picked up the parchment, and read it.

Hey, Blight Boy. Yeah, it's me. Calm your tits and jump off. Cassie wanted to see you. Y'know. Penta-whatsit. Just get your arse down here before I put an arrow up it.

Zarihn rolled his eyes and jumped down from the battlements, bracing his fall with his hand before hopping up onto his feet. He adjusted his half-cape and started walking swiftly and purposefully through Haven towards the keep. He pushed open the doors and stepped inside, away from the cold, biting wind and tramped across the long carpet leading to the war room.

Cassandra was sitting in the war room, staring at nothing and biting her lip anxiously. Zarihn smiled winningly and walked over to her. "Seeker." He said, practically purring. "Looking lovely today, I see."

"What do you want with me?" She blurted. She seemed to immediately regret the outburst. "I apologize. That came out wrong. What I meant was-"

Zarihn cut her off. "Why have I been showing such an interest in you lately?" Cassandra nodded hesitantly. "Well, see, I like you."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "In the same sense that you like half of Thedas?"

"No! Well, sort of. But not really." He stammered, losing his suave demeanor. "It just… I dunno… it's different, when I'm around you." He took a few slow steps towards her slowly, brushing past the war table. "I… I don't want to screw everything in sight, because I find myself worrying about what you might think of me." Zarihn said, walking closer as he spoke. "I always end up lying awake at night, thinking of all the things I could have said differently to you, or wondering how you would respond if I said all this out loud." He stood directly behind her as she kept staring at the ground. "I've probably said this same thing in my head a hundred times to make sure I don't cock it up, and yet here I am doing just that." She managed a dry chuckle and he leaned forward. "I care for you, Seeker." Cassandra muttered something to herself that sounded vaguely like 'sod it' before turning around and kissing the elf, catching him somewhat off-guard for a moment. Of course, it must never be said that Zarihn Du Rien was not a man of action, so he simply smirked against her lips and pushed her back against the war table, leaning into the kiss.

Agronaak walked into the war room a moment later. He was looking for Cullen, to discuss a missive he'd purportedly gotten about bandits on the Storm Coast. This was altogether not what he had expected to see when he had entered the chamber, but in all honesty, he was expecting it to happen one day or another. It was as though they had been walking through a desert for weeks and had finally come upon an oasis.

'I should probably say something. Right? Yes. That's the polite thing to do. Or...'

'No. Bad Agronaak. Make yourself known.'

"Ahem," Agronaak cleared his throat. At the sound, Cassandra's head snapped to the side and her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. She gave an infuriated yelp and scrambled away from Zarihn, shoving him off to the side and fixing her hair, which was ridiculous because her hair was short and was not out of place whatsoever. Her face was positively vermillion, and Agronaak would have burst out laughing if he didn't know Zarihn would gut him for doing so. Instead, he simply gave a smirk. "Well then," he said. "My apologies for interrupting." Zarihn, in contrast to his usual manner, remained silent for a few moments, a crestfallen look upon his scarred features. He simply stood there for a while, trying to contemplate the fact that she had just shoved him away. It was only for a short while, however, and he soon picked up his cocksure grin again.

"Oh, you weren't interrupting, Rivaini." Zarihn said, convincingly keeping up his everyday attitude of sarcasm. "I was just about to treat the Seeker to an intriguing lesson on elvish anatomy. Hardly an interruption, but I think Cassandra will be disheartened to be missing out on it." She turned a darker shade of scarlet and hid her face in her hands.

"ANYWAY," Agronaak prompted, "Leliana wanted to see you. Something about mages in Redcliffe."

Zarihn perked up and looked over to Agronaak. "So we're aiding the mages, then? Seeking their help in closing the Breach?"

"Well… that's not quite what Leliana had in mind." Agronaak said, scratching the back of his head. "She wanted you to go and check up on the mages and assess their situation, and then send me to Therinfal Redoubt in east Ferelden. Something about Lord Seeker Lucius and the Templars."

Cassandra looked surprised. "The Lord Seeker is willing to speak with us? The last time I spoke with him, he seemed quite adamant that he would face the mages and the demons on his own."

"People change." Zarihn said with a shrug. "I know that I'm no stranger to such things." He turned away from Agronaak and Cassandra, walking out of the war room and the keep, trudging through the snow to Leliana's tent.

"Lord Herald." She said, not even looking up from the map of southern Ferelden she was examining.

"Sister Nightingale." Zarihn said, mockingly formal. "Agronaak said you wished to speak with me? He mentioned Redcliffe and something about mages."

Leliana nodded absently and straightened upright. "Grand Enchantress Fiona, formerly of Ferelden's Circle of Magi, has reached out to us and asked that we speak to her about the possibility of the alliance."

Zarihn arched a thin eyebrow at her. "Can we trust her?"

"I believe we can, yes." Leliana informed him. "These mages are seeking succor and safe harbor, both of which we can provide for them. In return, they would no doubt aid us in sealing the Breach."

"I'd probably have to agree. Do Cullen and Cassandra know we've planned this?" Zarihn asked.

"They do. They only agreed on the condition that Lord Herald Agronaak would go to speak with the Templars." Leliana explained. "Everything else is in order."

"I'll go and find Sera. I'm sure she'd want to be along for this. And Madame Vivienne will no doubt demand to be brought along." Zarihn said, sighing. "Inform Seeker Cassandra to meet us at the stables, will you?" Leliana nodded, leaving him behind as she returned to her maps and scouting reports.

The trip to Redcliffe was long and awkward, and Sera's occasional advice on sexual positions for Zarihn and Cassandra was hardly any help. The pair of them had been avoiding each other more than they had back in Haven. Cassandra was embarrassed that anything had happened, and Zarihn was hurt that she had shoved him away. It was hardly a good combination. After more weeks of traveling, they all arrived in the small town surrounding Castle Redcliffe, and signs of old battles could be seen nearly everywhere.

"Nice place, this…" Sera said, clearly thinking the opposite of what she said. "Where's the magey girl we're looking out for?"

"Really, my dear, why must you speak in such a manner?" Vivienne asked. "It's rather unflattering."

"I don't give a flying fuck what you think is unflatterin', you tight little shitehead." Sera snapped at her. Zarihn and Cassandra stifled laughs and Vivienne looked horrified.

"Moving on…" Zarihn muttered. "We were supposed to meet the Grand Enchantress at some local tavern. 'The Warden's Rest', I think it was called."

"Come on then, Blight Boy, Penta-whatsit, hoity-toity, let's get going." Sera prompted, spurring her horse forwards.

It was a fairly long trek through the town before coming upon the aforementioned tavern. The establishment was fairly large, larger than most, made of solid oak wood and with a black roof. While in mostly good condition, the four of them noticed several scorch marks by the door and in a few other places. A faint plucking of strings sounded from inside, as well as chatter and laughter. The sign looked to have been newly installed, appearing almost pristine in comparison to the rest of the building. Had the sign been severely damaged in recent years? Or had the name of the establishment been changed?

After saddling up their horses, the group pushed open the heavy doors of the building, and were greeted with a plethora of stimulation, not all of it positive. A large amount of people were inside, chatting and laughing and occasionally hollering for a barmaid. The smell of roasted pig and garlic, with a hint of boiled elfroot, mixed with the acrid smell of piss and vomit, though there was thankfully not too much of that around. Zarihn inhaled deeply, as did Vivienne, while Cassandra felt her mouth water and Sera licked her lips. She seemed about to pounce on a passing meat platter when Cassandra grabbed her arm and yanked her into place. Sera was positively aghast that the Seeker had laid hands on her. Although it was Sera. Aghast and aroused were never far apart.

"Oi! Penta-whatsit! You got a fuckin' problem, mate?"

"Yes."

"You fuckin' wot mate?"

"Maker's breath!" Vivienne exclaimed. "What is wrong with you, child?"

"Fuckin' Seeker bitch 'ere just yanked me out of the way of some food like I was a kid!" Sera pouted. "How beastly do you take me for, ya think I can't keep me hands to meself?! I'll prove you right, right fuckin'-"

"For the last fucking time, Sera Tabris, you incompetent whore!" Zarihn snapped at her. "You can't keep your hands to yourself because you are that beastly! Honestly, you make passes at more women than I do, and you treat them all with the same respect and regard that you treated the fucking meat platter!"

Sera was stunned. Zarihn had never totally lost it at her like that before. He rarely ever lost it to… anyone. Hearing this left her completely unsure as to what to do next. "I-" she began to say. Zarihn raised an angry eyebrow at her, and her gaze dropped. "Sorry, Cassandra…" The Seeker herself was also rather alarmed at Zarihn's outburst, having also not seen him like this very often, if at all, and Vivienne raised a curious eyebrow. Such an interesting man, that one.

Zarihn took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "I apologize. I shouldn't have overreacted." He appeared to be genuinely sorry, although one could never be sure. "Let's just… move on."

The four of them, now even more uncomfortable than before, moved along through the tavern, sliding between tables filled with patrons of various different race, gender, and occupation, though most of them seemed like the mercenary type. On one occasion, Cassandra had to dodge a flying piece of edible matter, and all four of them cringed at the occasional whistle of approval in their direction. Except for Zarihn, of course. Who seemed to believe all of the attention was directed at him. Most of it probably was, to be completely honest. Eventually, they spotted a woman at a corner table that could be none other than the Grand Enchantress. Thin-faced, with a skinny frame, prominent pointed ears, short black hair and calculating eyes, clad in robes far too nice for an establishment such as this, she was pretty hard to miss.

"Lord Herald Du Rien, I presume?" She asked Zarihn in a surprisingly cultured tone.

"You presume correctly, Grand Enchantress." Zarihn replied, grinning and sliding into the seat across from her. "I understand that you had a proposition for the Inquisition?"

"Straight to the point? My my, that was hardly how I expected you." Fiona said, feigning disappointment. She laughed at her own joke and adopted a more serious manner. "I wish to aid your Inquisition in closing the Breach, which is no doubt your primary goal."

"Very admirable, Grand Enchantress. Might I suggest-" Zarihn stopped suddenly when Fiona froze and her eyes widened.

"I am terribly sorry, Lord Herald. But there seems to have been a mistake." She said in a monotone. "I retract my offer of aid. I shall remain present in Redcliffe."

"The fuck just jumped up your arse and died?" Sera asked.

"I must go. I apologize again." Fiona intoned, standing up and trudging to the door.

They were all rather shocked at this development, and of course more than a little suspicious. It could not have been something Zarihn said; they'd only just begun the discussion. Something was obviously troubling the Grand Enchantress.

There was a slight crinkling of paper and a sudden feeling of a breeze brushing Zarihn's neck, and he whipped around to find absolutely nothing at all. Nothing, that was, but for a paper on Fiona's table that had definitely not been there a minute ago.

"Right… 's not suspicious 't all." Sera muttered, backing away from the table.

Zarihn rolled his eyes and walked over to the table and picked up the sheet of paper. He frowned and looked it over. "It's written in Tevinter." He furrowed his brow, cleared his throat, and tried translating. "Herald, am of pleasing to meet you. Visit in of temple wherein find much answer. Hoping that you will be of trustings, an admired." Zarihn looked up, slightly pink in the cheeks. "My translation leaves something to be desired, but I believe we get the general idea."

All three ladies gave a slight smirk at his translation, but it was true; they did get the point. Cassandra cleared her throat and spoke somewhat hesitantly. "I… am sure you've also guessed that the "temple" is in fact this town's Chantry. I'm not sure I entirely trust the phantom who left the message, but something is clearly wrong with the Grand Enchantress and it is necessary that we find out what caused her sudden change in attitude. I propose we go to the Chantry and hopefully get some answers."

"Couldn't ha' said it better meself, Cassie." Sera said, cheerful again. She flounced out of the tavern quickly, leaving the rest of them to hurry after her as she practically skipped along to the Chantry.

Upon entering the old stone building, they found the inside empty and tarnished, save for a Fade rift above the altar. Shades and demons of fear surrounded the rift, and were engaged in battle with a man who wielded a large metal staff and cast varied elemental spells against them. The man had somewhat dark skin and slicked back black hair; exactly the stereotype for a Tevinter.

"Herald!" He called out. "About time you showed up! Give me a hand here!" Zarihn, never one to refuse a handsome man, drew his daggers and ran to his aid, leaping onto a demon and forcing it to the ground with his blades in its chest.

Cassandra had to admit, it was awe-inspiring to watch him fight. Truly she could watch it for ages. But this was no time to be thinking about him and his fighting and how she might have screwed up a few weeks back. Drawing her weapons, she charged forward and rammed her blade through the chest of a newly-materialized demon. Sera laughed and unsheathed her bow, pelting a shade with arrow after arrow. Vivienne sighed at their crude methods of fighting as she spun her staff and slammed it into the ground, causing a group of demons to explode in bursts of flame. Zarihn jumped up with a put-upon expression and held up his right hand, sending arc of green energy into the rift. It sparked and convulsed before exploding, disappearing quickly into thin air and dragging the spirits with it. The Tevinter stood up straight and brushed himself off. He stroked his thin black moustache and pursed his lips.

"A most fortuitous arrival, Lord Heral-" The Tevinter froze. "Ah. Hello, Zarihn."

Zarihn grinned and ran over to the man, throwing his arms around him. "Dorian, old friend! It's been too long!"

"Far too long. Last I saw you was in Minrathous, wasn't it?" Dorian asked, smiling at the memory.

"Oh, I recall." Zarihn said, smirking and winking at the Tevinter. Cassandra groaned and Sera snorted. Vivienne seemed intrigued, if anything. It would appear that she liked the idea of whatever happened in Minrathous.

"So," Dorian said, "I'm sure it's clear from what just transpired why I asked you here." He gestured vaguely to where the Fade rift had been. "Bit of a demon problem we've got, here, and I need your help with it. From the look of things back at the tavern, so does Grand Enchanter Fiona, quite frankly."

"Straight to business, are we?" Zarihn teased. "I miss the old you…"

"I could be flirty, but I don't want to upset the Nevarran." Dorian replied.

"Why do you single me out?" Cassandra inquired, somewhat insulted.

"Because you groaned when we mentioned Minrathous," the mage replied, "and because your hand is subconsciously snaking towards Zarihn's." At this, Cassandra realized how close she was standing to the elf, and how close her hand indeed was to his. She reddened and her hand darted away. She looked away uncomfortably. Dorian chuckled. "Case in point."

"Now now, Pavus, lay off her." Zarihn chided, swatting his arm playfully. Dorian feigned hurt.

"You wound me, sir." Dorian said, gasping and taking a step back.

"I'm about to wound you iffin you don't shut ya whiny gob, Vint." Sera snapped at him. Dorian looked offended.

"Moving on from the smelly, underdressed elf…" Dorian muttered. Vivienne giggled and Sera looked like she was about to smack the moustachioed mage upside his greasy head. "It's best if I inform you of our present situation. Redcliffe Castle has been… commandeered… by a magister named Gereon Alexius and his son Felix. Their motives for this are dubious at the very best. Gereon has openly expressed his desire to aid the creator of the Breach, whom he refers to simply as the 'Elder One'. You see, Felix and Gereon are very different. The apple fell quite far from the tree, so to speak. Felix suffers from a debilitating condition, for which there is no cure. Being a 'dutiful father', Gereon has sided with the Elder One to find a cure, which he believes this unknown being may yet provide."

"You are quite forthcoming with this information, Dorian." Vivienne said, raising her eyebrows. "How can we trust you?"

"Not trusting Dorian when he trusts you with this information?" Zarihn said, making a quiet tsking noise. "How disappointing, Madame…"

Dorian held back a laugh, but allowed himself a small smirk. "Anyway, I have a way to get into the castle."

"Oh?" Cassandra said, still somewhat irritated. "And how do you plan to do that? I'm sure all entrances are guarded; they will see us from miles off."

"I agree with Cassie 'ere," Sera chimed in.

Vivienne simply sighed and rubbed her temples. "By the Maker, you two. He is a mage. Consider his profession for a moment before assuming there is no way to get into a fortified establishment, would you? Such warriors, I swear…"

Zarihn and Dorian beamed proudly. "Splendid! At least one of your women has intelligence." Dorian mused. Zarihn rolled his eyes dramatically. "Anyway, we can easily get in. I've been working on a spell of my own creation; one that allows an individual or a group of individuals to move from one place to another instantaneously."

Zarihn looked somewhat impressed. "When can you begin this spell?"

"Right now, if you so wish it." Dorian offered. Zarihn turned to his companions and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I say we simply go for it."

"What point is there wasting time when demons are popping up out of rifts and the Grand Enchantress is in danger? Let us proceed."

"Fuck it. Let's get it over with, yeah?"

"Wonderful!" Dorian exclaimed. "I'll begin immediately." He began to mutter a few words under his breath, closing his eyes and moving in what appeared to be a very specific pattern. It went on for about a minute, and as he raised his staff into the air, the metal beginning to glow with power, he casually said, "Oh, by the way, I've not tested the spell yet. Hopefully none of you gets left behind."

"Wait a minute," Cassandra said, nervous. "What-"

FWOOM!

Dorian's staff hit the ground, there was an apparent rushing of wind, and the four of them were in a dimly lit stone hall.

"Well shit…" Dorian said. "That went well."

"Yeah, nice goin' Vint…" Sera muttered, twitching and looking as though she were about to smack him again.

"Calm down, Sera." Zarihn said, laying a hand on her shoulder. She snarled and shoved his hand away.

"Let's just move on." Sera mumbled, looking around suspiciously. "I can't see a thing anyway…"

"Ah, where are my manners?" A voice boomed from the dark side of the room. "Lights!" Torches along the walls suddenly lit of their own accord, casting harsh orange-red light around the room. They were standing in Redcliffe's main hall, and at the opposite end of the room of them was a large throne, wherein sat a man wearing dark red Tevinter magister robes. He appeared to be somewhat old, and his face was covered in stubble. A younger man with short hair and a ragged beard stood on his right, wearing a yellow surcoat over chainmail. Grand Enchantress Fiona stood to the left of the throne, a dazed expression on her face.

"Magister Alexius, I presume?" Zarihn asked, somehow remaining civil.

"You will speak when spoken to, worm!" A masked guard yelled from the side of the hall.

"I will speak when I choose, you pompous little prat." Zarihn retorted, his calmness and civility vanishing.

"The Herald of Andraste finally shows himself." Alexius said, standing up out of his throne and twirling his staff. "I was wondering when you would appear."

"So good to know I've got fans." Zarihn said dryly.

"Hmph. Funny. How very droll." Alexius said, clearly not amused. "I cannot allow you or that loathsome Pavus to interfere, I'm afraid. The Elder One's victory is close at hand, and our salvation is nigh."

"What's your plan? Are you going to kill me with your melodrama?" Zarihn inquired. His companions tried not to laugh, except for Sera, who burst out laughing.

"Please, do shut up." Alexius insisted, tendrils of green energy gathering on his staff.

"Perhaps we should move…" Dorian said, tugging at Zarihn's arm.

"Do your worst, Alexius." Zarihn said, crossing his arms.

"I plan on it." Alexius stated, lashing out and blasting Dorian and Zarihn with green energy from his staff.

The pair of them appeared in quite an unfamiliar place. It appeared to be a dungeon of some sort, but the floor was flooded and the cells were full of red lyrium.

"Great! Thanks a lot, you alcoholic walnut!" Dorian yelled at him.

"Walnut?"

"Walnut."

"Maybe walnut can be our always."

"Andraste's knickerweasels, Zarihn!" Dorian snapped. "Can't you take anything seriously?"

"I didn't know walnuts could be serious. Especially alcoholic ones."

"Zarihn, pay attention, you absolute cabbage!"

"Hmm?"

"Alexius may have just displaced our position in time." Dorian explained. "When I used to be his apprentice, we studied magic together, and worked on a new sort. Time magic."

"Apparently this walnut has been drinking too much."

"This. Is. Serious."

"Right. Serious. Of course."

"We may very well be in the future, and if we don't find Alexius, we'll be stuck here." Dorian said, glaring at Zarihn from the corner of his eye.

"The future?" Zarihn asked, more than a little bit doubtful. "How can we be in the future?"

"Doubting me, Zarihn? I'm hurt. A Pavus never lies. At least not for good reason."

"Seems like you might have a good reason now." Zarihn said grimly.

"Come on now, old boy!" Dorian chided. "This is a serious business. We must find out where, or rather, when we are."

"If you so insist…" Zarihn muttered, looking around.

"Herald… come here…" A quiet voice urged from down the hall. "Quickly…"

"Did you hear that?" Dorian asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Of course. The alcohol hasn't taken my hearing." Zarihn said dryly, walking quickly over to the cell.

Inside was Grand Enchantress Fiona, or what remained of her. She was seemingly attached to the wall by a spike of red lyrium, and her skin was the same shade as the crystal. "It's really you…" She muttered tiredly. "You're alive…"

"'Course I am!" Zarihn exclaimed, grinning and keeping up his cheerful composure. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Alexius… we all thought he killed you. You've been gone two years, Herald." Fiona told him. "He's… he's won. Him and this 'Elder One' he keeps talking about…"

"What about my companions? Where are they?" Zarihn demanded.

"The other side of the dungeon. You'd better hurry…" Fiona managed, her consciousness slowly slipping.

"I… understand, Grand Enchantress." Zarihn said, his smile gone. "I'll do what I can to rectify this." He turned from the cell and walked towards the steps leading to the other side of the dungeon, not even bothering to see if Dorian followed.

"Took you long enough, Blight Boy, you fuckin' wanker!" a pale and sickly Sera snapped from a nearby cell. Zarihn sighed and turned to face her.

"Hello, Sera. I see you've taken to the lyrium crystals." Zarihn said bluntly. "I suppose you'd have had to resort to other sources of entertainment after your hand gave out…"

Sera glared at him, a menacing twinkle in her eye. "The crystals weren't my decision, you fuck'ead! Get me outta this thing before I fuckin' pop a bloody vein, you incompetent whore!" Under her angry words, Zarihn could detect a hint of frayed nerves, of desperation to be out of her prison. The years had not been kind to her, for she was a creature with the attention span of a squirrel; there was something not quite right. Zarihn's smile faded slightly as he knelt down to pick the lock. It was a basic prison lock, one he'd picked dozens of times before, as well as old and rusted; he could probably have broken it if he didn't want a stealthy approach.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Sera Tabris." Zarihn said grimly. "Where are the others?"

"They're 'round 'ere somewhere." Sera said, stretching her limbs and looking around.

A faint calling from around the corner led them to find Vivienne, in not much better shape than Sera was. Her skin, normally a rich dark hue, was off-color and splotchy, and there was an abundance of red lyrium crystals poking out of her, along her arms and on a few bits of her face. "I am very disappointed in you, Herald," Vivienne said as they approached her cell.

"And in what way is that different from your normal attitude towards me?" Zarihn asked, deadpan.

"It's not, really, now that I think about it. You're a very disappointing man, Lord Herald."

"Not when it counts, Madame." Zarihn said, smirking deviously. "As you have told me so very often."

"I can certify that." Dorian piped up.

Vivienne looked like she was about to say something, then looked away in defeat. "Maker-forsaken assassin…" she muttered. "Alright, Du Rien, you win. Get me out of here."

"I figure you'd change your tune." Zarihn said with a smug smile. He crouched down and picked the lock quickly, standing back up just in time to avoid a flying staff. "What the fuck-"

"Sorry, Blight Boy. Didn't mean to almost hit ya." Sera said. Vivienne rolled her eyes and picked up the fallen mage's staff Sera had thrown to her.

"Insufferable child," Vivienne muttered. Sera's eyes grew hard and she looked like she was about to haul off and punch the Enchantress in the face, but Zarihn looked at her sharply, as if to remind her about what had happened (apparently) two years prior in the tavern. She gave him a brief scowl and looked away. But using that memory against her jogged his own memory of his last companion, and his attitude suddenly shifted.

"Where's Cassandra?" He demanded, his panic mounting.

"Calm down." Dorian said, sighing. "I'm sure she's alright."

"That's easy for you to say, Pavus." Zarihn said, scowling and storming off down the dungeon corridor. Dorian sighed and scratched his head, but continued after him.

They found Cassandra a few minutes later, but Zarihn almost wished he hadn't. She was sitting in a corner, knees drawn up to her shoulders, her head hanging low. There were less lyrium crystals sticking out of her than the other two - testament to her strong will and Seeker training - but when she looked at him, her face was pale, too pale, almost deathly pale, and her eyes held so much despair that it nearly broke Zarihn's heart to see her. Her hair had grown out somewhat, and it was obvious she hadn't bathed in at least a week. She tried to give him a smile, but it looked forced.

"It's you, isn't it? Really… you?" She managed to say. "Maker, I thought you were dead."

"Well, thank the Maker you were mistaken." Zarihn said, smiling sadly before kneeling down to unlock the cell.

"Eugh… it's like I've been trapped in a romance novel and can't get out…" Dorian muttered, grimacing. "Minus the power-mad mages and magic crystals, but those are just the finer points."

Zarihn glared at him and pushed open the door, stepping into the cell quickly. "Need a hand, Seeker?" He asked, reaching out to Cassandra. She nodded weakly and grabbed his arm so that he could help her up.

"I ship it." Vivienne whispered, just barely audible. Sera caught her eye and slightly nodded her head in agreement. Dorian rolled his eyes so hard they nearly got stuck.

"Can you fight?" Zarihn asked cautiously, his hand on Cassandra's shoulder to support her.

"Just because I've been stuck in a cell doesn't mean I became a Chantry mouse all of a sudden." Cassandra said, finally managing to smile.

"Looks like Penta-whatsit's back." Sera remarked dryly.

"I swear, Tabris, by all that is holy, you fuck with me right now, I end you," Cassandra suddenly snapped. She quickly regained her composure and gave Zarihn another smile. "You may find it useful to know that, if my memory serves, the mages took our weapons and stored them in a room not far from here; I believe I can tell you which one it is. However, you and the mage will have to dispatch the guards for us, obviously." She seemed to be gaining her old confidence back, and Zarihn had to suppress a full-blown grin. Dorian shook his head sadly and walked off down the corridor with Zarihn and Cassandra close behind, the latter leaning on the former for support.

"How adorable." Dorian said, rolling his eyes again. "Pardon me while I shed a single tear." Cassandra promptly smacked his ass with her gauntlet. "Hey! It's not that I don't appreciate the gesture, Seeker, but I'm afraid your boyfriend is closer to my type than you are."

"He's not my- wait, what?"

"You heard me."

Ten minutes later, after combating the guards guarding the room holding their weapons, as well as a drastic increase in tension, the three companions had their weapons back. Sera looked like she was about to cry with joy; Zarihn worried she'd end up passionately kissing her old wooden bow. Vivienne caressed her staff fondly, and Cassandra silently retrieved her sword and shield, smiling faintly. "Well then," Dorian said as everyone got their gear, "If everyone has gotten their weapons, then I think we can all agree the next thing we need to do is find Alexius and make him pay for what he's done. All in favor?" Four hands simultaneously shot up.

"Be careful, though," Vivienne warned. "Even a master mage should not be able to so easily blast two people forward in time on a whim like that. He is obviously being enhanced by something. Tread lightly."

"Don't I always?" Zarihn asked.

"No." Everyone replied at the same moment.

"Sometimes?"

"Not at all."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence…" Zarihn muttered, wandering off down the corridor.

"Happy to help!" Sera said cheerfully.

"Is that what you call it?" Vivienne asked. Sera promptly kicked Vivienne in the shins.

"I see your women on the side are still as feisty as ever." Dorian teased.

"'Side woman'?" Vivienne asked. "My dear, I am no one's side woman, least of all Zarihn's."

"Y'know what, this might be the only time I ever side with Vivienne." Sera said. "Besides, Zarihn and I… play for different teams."

"Not quite." Zarihn piped up.

"For the Maker's sake, is there anyone you haven't slept with?" Cassandra asked with a put-upon expression.

"You." Zarihn pointed out. Cassandra promptly looked away at the wall and turned a dark shade of red.

"S-shut up."

"Make me."

"Fuck's sake!"

"Shut up, you two," Vivienne snapped, swatting them both on the back of the head. "We've much more important things to do than listen to you two flirt all day." She marched ahead of the pack, muttering under her breath. Sera giggled and Dorian smirked, walking on and leaving Zarihn and Cassandra momentarily stunned. It passed quickly, however, and the both of them rushed to catch up with the others… on opposite sides of the hallway.

Sera, for all her crude humor and unthreatening personality, proved rather effective at stealth when she wanted to be. There were several pairs of guards that the group did not have to engage due to her silent steps. She wasn't exactly strong, but it was obviously enough to snap necks and smash people's noses in. Zarihn found himself a bit miffed at times; it wasn't as though he couldn't do this stuff… though admittedly it was more fun to engage enemies head-on, and that wasn't the most practical approach in this situation.

They'd been wandering for a while when Dorian overheard some annoyed shouting coming from a side room. "... the last time, you redheaded bitch, tell me what my master wishes to know!"

"Your master is not my master." Leliana's now familiar voice echoed from within. "You can't threaten me with your blades, so you may as well shove them up your arse." Zarihn sighed and kicked in the door.

"Hi honey, I'm home." He said, smiling as if nothing were wrong. The torturer turned to face him and started to yell, suddenly cut off when Leliana snapped his neck between her legs.

"And what sort of time do you call this?" Leliana asked tiredly, managing a weak smile.

"An improper time." Dorian said, waving his staff idly and snapping the chains around Leliana's wrists.

"Be silent." Leliana intoned. "I'm tired of listening to Tevinters talk all day." She shoved her way past him and grabbed her old bow off a rack on the wall. "I suppose it would be a logical assumption that you geniuses have a plan. In that case, we will carry it out. We have no time to waste, unless your new associate wants to keep babbling."

"You slept with that one too, didn't you?" Dorian asked. "She seems like your type. Minus the wrinkles." Leliana scowled and kneed him in the groin before storming out of the room.

As it turned out, Leliana had a lot of pent-up rage, and was all too eager to let it out. She had no mind for stealth at the moment - something Zarihn appreciated, in addition to it being amusing to see her normal cool shattered - but she was also so pissed that she took all the guards out before Zarihn or anyone else had the chance to participate. Credit to her, she knew how to use that bow. After they spent half an hour searching for red lyrium shards to open the door to the main hall, they finally confronted Alexius and his son Felix, who had become a shell of a man. It turned out that Alexius was a cheeky little bitch, Fade-stepping the fuck around until they could catch him. Just when Zarihn got close enough to get a stab in with his daggers, he'd just fucking Fade-step away and materialize somewhere across the room. This is why everyone just sides with the TEMPLARS, you little - sorry. Anyway. After nearly an entire Maker-forsaken hour, Zarihn grabbed Alexius by the collar and stabbed his dagger through Alexius' skull.

"How very passe…" Dorian said tiredly, walking to the collapsed throne and beginning to work on the portal.

"You had better hurry." Leliana said, craning her neck as if listening closely. "They're sending reinforcements."

"Oh goody…" Sera groaned. "I don't get paid enough for this shite."

"We don't pay you anything." Cassandra told her.

"Which is why I've been stealing everyone's breeches." Sera informed the Seeker.

"Morons…" Vivienne muttered. "Very well, let's get this over with. Never thought I'd die dressed like this."

"Y'know, I came into this world covered in someone else's blood and screaming." Sera said thoughtfully. "I'll be damned if I'm not leaving it the same way." Cassandra stayed silent and started walking to the doors, preparing herself for the battle ahead.

"Hang on a second, Seeker." Zarihn said, walking away from Dorian and striding over to her. "You're not getting away that easily." He wrapped an arm around her back and pulled her into a rather sudden kiss, much to her surprise. She pulled back slightly and smiled faintly, probably the first time in a more than a year. "Best of luck, Cassandra." He turned away from her and walked back to Dorian to aid him.

Almost immediately after the three women strode out the door, things started going horribly wrong. Sera's screams of agony were the first sounds Zarihn heard, followed by Vivienne's war cry being abruptly cut off. Zarihn tried to block out the sounds and steel himself for when the Venatori forces broke through, cringing as Sera's wailing carried on for several minutes.

The enemy pounded on the door once, twice, three times, before opening with a resounding BOOM. Zarihn almost lost it when Cassandra flew through the door in two different pieces. A shadowy figure stepped through the door, eyes glowing through a shroud of dark energy, easily eight feet tall. "Maker's balls…" he heard Leliana mutter as she drew her bow and started picking off Venatori, before the shadowy figure drew too close and rammed a twisted sword through her gut. Zarihn stared in horror, frozen to the spot as it casually let her slide off the blade.

"ZARIHN!" came Dorian's desperate cry, snapping him back to reality. "THE PORTAL. NOW!" Indeed, the Tevinter had managed to open up a brilliantly green portal, and was gesturing wildly for Zarihn to jump through. The figure noticed what was happening, gave a bellow of rage, and charged toward the throne. Zarihn sprinted for the portal, diving through next to Dorian just before the figure could wrap its claw around his ankle.

Next thing he knew, he was standing in the Redcliffe throne room again, but it was a year prior, and only seconds had passed. He took a second to catch his breath before drawing his right dagger and hauling Alexius up by the front of his robes.

"Surprise, bitch." Zarihn said, pressing his dagger to Alexius' throat. "Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me."

"ANDRASTE'S TITS!" Sera yelled, jumping back a foot and nearly elbowing King Alistair in the face as he entered the room, guards flanking his approach. "Whoa, who the fuck invited fluffy over here?"

"Fluffy?" Alistair asked. "That's the look I was going for, thanks."

"This is a serious situation, husband of mine." Queen Anora said, done with her husband's shit. "We must attend to Alexius." Zarihn turned to Alistair and smiled.

"Well, hello, Your Grace." He said, almost mockingly. "Getting soft with old age, are we?"

"Oh, stuff it, you old rogue." Alistair said, waving dismissively.

"And I see you brought the wife." Zarihn said, winking at Queen Anora, who giggled uncharacteristically.

"Oh, Andraste's arse, would you two pay attention?" Vivienne asked. Zarihn rolled his eyes so hard they nearly got stuck and threw Alexius at the feet of Alistair's guards.

"Hmm? Oh, ahem, yes…" Alistair said, looking over to Grand Enchantress Fiona. "Um… by my decree, you are hereby expelled from the Kingdom of Ferelden. Gather your things and leave."

"But, Your Grace, where will we go?" Fiona asked desperately.

"Not here." He said dryly.

"You can come with us." Zarihn offered.

"Oh, Maker…" Cassandra muttered, slapping a palm to her forehead.

"You what, Blight Boy?" Sera snapped.

"I knew you were an idiot, but I never figured you to be this moronic." Vivienne said, sighing. Zarihn ignored them both and looked to Fiona.

"I suppose we would come as members of the Inquisition, then." She said resignedly. "Not really ourselves."

"Don't be absurd." Zarihn said, mock-horrified. "You'll come as allies and equals. I'd ask for no less." Fiona looked shocked but said nothing, hardly believing her good fortune. "Well? Come on, then. I'm sure Alistair has kingly things to do, I've got inquisiting to do, and I'm sure Anora has someone, er, something to do."

 **AN: WE'RE BACK BITCHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES! We hope you enjoyed this chapter, sorry for the wait, and we're really _really_ sorry for the crack. Also Alistair's fluffy coat.**


	10. Chapter 10: Envy and Mercy

**AN: Okay, so, like... fair warning here, this chapter is definitely the worst so far, and by that I mean sadness, violence, gore, rape mention, mind fuckery, tons of just really nasty awful stuff. Definitely M-rated, here. If you've got a problem with any of that, if it triggers you, then perhaps this chapter isn't one you ought to read. If you _are_ able to make it through, however, I think you'll find this one to be one of the better written chapters, and certainly the longest. Enjoy!**

 _'How convenient,'_ Agronaak thought bitterly, _'that the Templars decided to build their fortress and entire country away from us.'_

They'd been riding for weeks, nearing a month now, and everyone's tempers were flaring a little high. Blackwall strayed far behind the rest of the group, Solas was slumped over his horse, sleeping, his spirit wandering the Fade, an annoyed look on his face, and even Varric's constant grin seemed a little strained in recent days. Agronaak couldn't even begin to imagine the ride back if the Templars of Therinfal didn't accept the Inquisition's proposal of an alliance. Blackwall might just snap and go on a murdering spree.

Luckily for them, the long awkward silences occasionally broken by a witty remark from Varric would soon be over. Therinfal Redoubt loomed in the distance, an impressive fortress with a sizable array of defenses, or so he'd been told. Even from a ways off, Agronaak could see a good amount of Templars patrolling the walls of the fortress; they obviously didn't want this place getting captured. A few nobles had gathered around the gate, eager to catch a glimpse of the Inquisition's "pet Qunari" as some referred to Agronaak. Solas woke up as they approached, scowling at everything that existed.

"Lighten up, Chuckles." Varric chided. "I thought someone like you might be at home in Therinfal." Solas muttered something in old Elvish that roughly translated to 'fuck off'.

"Whoa, hey now," Varric said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Touchy, touchy. I don't know what you said, but it looks like someone got woken up too early from his nap." Solas looked like he might very well set Varric on fire if Varric kept the antics up, and Agronaak coughed loudly to alert him. There were few words spoken up until they reached the front gate, and then most of them originated from the nobles - "He's so tall!" "What an exotic hairstyle!" "Those are horns, Lady Elise." "Do you think he brought the dwarf as a snack?" Agronaak pointedly ignored them all, taking a swig of Carnal from his flask. He really should stop drinking so much of this stuff. Then again, Zarihn drank recklessly and was only somewhat dead inside, so it can't be that bad.

The Templars at the gate recognized Agronaak instantly - being the only Qunari in a few hundred miles had some small benefits - and rushed to open the gate for him.

"The esteemed Herald of Andraste graces us with his presence." Lord Seeker Lucius called out from the battlements, taking on a mocking tone. "Don't your devotions to your heathen philosophy call you elsewhere?"

Agronaak snorted in disdain. "Is this how you greet all your visitors, Lord Seeker?" he called back. "You must make a wonderful first impression."

Lucius' face twisted into a cruel sneer. "It speaks! It is capable of coherent sentences and thought! Who has ever heard of such a thing?"

"Most of the people here, you ignorant fop!" Blackwall yelled, quick to the defense of his friend. "Apparently your brain just can't comprehend it." Lucius shut up at that one. Agronaak and Varric glanced at each other and shared a smirk as they rode through the open gate.

"Apparently the tales of Grey Warden savagery are true." A voice said from the crowd. Agronaak turned his head, curious, and laid eyes upon a tall man, perhaps in his late forties but still fit, with long, slightly unruly brown hair and in dire need of a shave. He grinned and walked over to Agronaak, extending his right hand out to him. "I am Fergus Cousland, Teyrn of Highever. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Agronaak paused for a moment before grasping Fergus' hand and hopping down from his horse, which was led away by a stableboy. "Likewise, Teyrn Cousland," he said, nodding respectfully. A thought occurred to him; where had he heard the name before?

Fergus seemed to know what Agronaak was thinking before he could say anything. "You're wondering where you've heard the name before?"

"I am. I take it by your tone that that is a common reaction?" Agronaak asked rhetorically. Fergus laughed dryly.

"Few people know my name because it is mine." Fergus told him. "They know who I am because of my brother James, who you might know as the Hero of Ferelden." He gave a crooked sort of grin. "I was off scouting when the darkspawn horde destroyed our army at Ostagar. Good thing, too; we were sent back years later to do what we could for the bodies - eerily well-preserved. Must have been a bloodbath… Well, anyway, James was in the battle, and luckily for all of us wasn't among the fallen. The rest, well… I'm sure you know it."

"United the different races, yes yes, I've heard it." Agronaak said. "He fell in battle against the Archdemon, I've heard."

"I always thought he'd outlive us all." Fergus mused. "Tough as a dragon's hide, he was." His face took on a distinctly mournful look for a moment. He quickly shook himself out of his reverie, however, and gave Agronaak a large grin. "Well, that's enough about James, yes? I simply wanted to let you know that you, Herald Qun'Maloc, have my support. I… know many people are unsupportive of such a new and 'upstart' organization, if you will, especially one led by members of two races many consider… undesirable. I, however, am not so prejudiced, and you can rest assured my resources are yours."

"If you are quite through with that relic of Ostagar, we should continue on, Herald." Lucius called back.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll much prefer your company, you Chant-thumping imbecile!" Fergus snapped.

"Oh, is that what I am, you… Er, you…" Lucius fumbled for a moment but, suddenly unable to come up with anything at the moment, simply scowled and motioned sharply for Agronaak and company to move on.

A few minutes later, they all stepped into a large courtyard, where a dark-skinned Templar with very short hair was there to greet them. "Herald Qun'Maloc," he said, bowing slightly. "I am Knight-Templar Barris. I hope the journey here has not been unpleasant for you." Varric coughed loudly but Solas smacked the back of his head with his staff and he shut up.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Knight-Templar Barris," Agronaak said with a similar bow. "We are well enough, albeit with some frayed nerves" - he glanced briefly at Varric, who winked at him - "and if it is not much trouble, we would like to conduct our business here quickly, so we may get some adequate rest before returning to Haven."

"Of course, Lord Herald." Barris said, taking a step forward and gesturing to a set of three flags on the wall of the fortress. "My lord, if you could spend a minute here, it could prove to be interesting. Each of these flags represents something important, or at least something that should be important to our guests here at Therinfal. The flags represent the Maker, the people, and the Chantry. Raise or lower the flags based on how important each is to you. It may yet show the nobles something they do not yet know."

'Fuck,' Agronaak caught himself thinking as he strode up to the cranks used to raise or lower the flags. The Maker, the Chantry, and the people… He knew full well that what he'd like to do was rip the flags of the Maker and the Chantry right off the wall and burn them; those two things were so southern, so removed from anything he considered to be important with respect to the Qun - not that he was too strict a follower of that anymore - but alas, he was one Qunari amongst a sea of pious humans (and one somewhat faithful dwarf), and he had to make some choice.

The people were obviously his priority; what was the point of the Inquisition if not to bring order and keep all Thedosians safe? But whether or not to "devote" himself more to the Maker or the Chantry was enough to make him pause and wonder. Eventually he reasoned that the Chantry was supposed to make life better for the common folk as well, and that was more in line with his one real priority. He suspected that even if he were a human, and raised in an Andrastian household, he would never have been very devoted anyway; he knew he was never much for the Qun. And so it went: the people, the Chantry, the Maker.

"How very surprising!" The Lord Seeker exclaimed, the sarcasm painfully obvious in his voice. "A Qunari disrespecting our beliefs? Putting them behind all else? Were he a human, I would be surprised."

Agronaak rounded on Lucius, annoyed. "I agreed to join the Inquisition to help people, Lord Seeker, to make the world a better place, not to appease some overzealous ignoramus cowering in his fortress, refusing to assist in the conflict or accept that not every culture in Thedas is going to perfectly mirror his own. I stand by my decision."

"That was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard." Varric muttered, wiping a tear from his eye. Solas rolled his eyes at Varric but was smiling slightly. Blackwall was being Blackwall. The Lord Seeker turned away from Agronaak and walked into the keep, leaving the iron bound door ajar.

"I apologize for the Lord Seeker's behavior, Lord Herald Agronaak." Barris said hurriedly. "But if we could move along…"

There was definitely something amiss in the keep; Agronaak didn't see anything immediately wrong, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was not as it should be. He supposed it was curious that all the Templars they passed while moving through the keep had their helmets on, while Barris and Lucius and a few other Templars they'd seen in the courtyard had their helmets off. What was the point, he wondered, when they were securely in their own keep and there was no imminent danger? It was slightly unnerving; he couldn't make out their eyes through the visors of their helmets but felt dozens of eyes on him as soon as he passed through the keep doors. He shivered. It was probably nothing; Barris and Lucius were obviously fine… but he chose to remain alert in here.

Lucius broke off in a different direction, still fuming, while Barris led the party off to the western barracks. "Knight-Captain Denam," he explained, "will assist you in the next step in your visit here."

As soon as the last of them had walked into the main room of the barracks, two Templars moved to block either exit. Agronaak immediately tensed and had to fight the urge to draw his weapon right then and there. He locked eyes with Blackwall, then Varric, and finally Solas, and each of them shared a nod. He was glad he brought such a perceptive party along.

Knight-Captain Denam was staring at a painting on the wall when they entered, and when he turned around Agronaak knew beyond all doubt that this was a trap. It wasn't the long, disheveled hair, or the bags under his eyes, or the burn marks scarring his face; it was the look in his eyes that tipped him off. This man had the look of someone who had not slept in days, and that was due entirely to the kind of unswerving loyalty that made him incredibly dangerous.

"He's either drunk, sleep-deprived, or possessed." Varric muttered. "Possibly all three."

"Lord Herald Qun'Maloc." The Knight-Captain intoned, a strange sort of glint coming into his eye. "Pleased to have you here."

Agronaak tensed. The more he looked at this man the worse their situation seemed to get. "I am honored to be here," he said, forcing himself to remain calm.

"No you are not." Denam said simply. "But we have been expecting you nonetheless." A crooked smile found its way onto his face. "The Lord Seeker…" He giggled madly. "He sent me to die for you."

'Of fucking course he did,' Agronaak thought bitterly, but feigned surprise. "I'm… sorry?"

Denam's smile grew wider. "Lord Seeker Lucius had plans for the Order, Herald. Glorious plans, most glorious. But you, Herald, you botched it, you and your sudden arrival, it raised too many questions among the Templars; the plan's all but ruined now… No matter," he said, grin growing ever wider. "Something may be salvaged as of yet. The rest of the Order shall be purged, as shall you and your noble allies, Herald." He drew his sword. "No one shall leave Therinfal who is not stained red!" All around the room, the rest of the Templars drew their weapons as well.

Blackwall sighed tiredly and hefted his axe. "Why are all the Templars such fucking morons?" He asked tiredly.

"Maybe the darkspawn blood makes them dumber." Varric suggested.

"Unlikely. It is more probable that it heightens their intelligence." Solas mused.

"Way to kill the mood, Egg."

"Egg?!" Solas asked, incredulous.

"You're an egg."

"Solas, you're an egg," Agronaak grumbled, ignoring Solas' cry of indignation and drawing his sword and shield just quickly enough to defend himself from Denam. The man fought with an almost reckless passion, but there was a surprising amount of oomph behind his swings that Agronaak had not expected from someone two feet shorter than him. His oomph and passion were no match for Agronaak's brute strength however, and the head of the crazed Knight-Captain soon fell to the floor. Varric laughed to himself as a high-velocity ballistic bolt pinned a Templar to the wall before detonating, Blackwall sighed again like the moody prat he was, and Solas methodically sent his opponents to the floor, wailing and clutching their heads in agony. The method was certainly effective, but the sound made Agronaak a bit sick and he put them out of their misery.

Moody Beardman, Horns, Chest Hair, and Egg then proceeded to fight their way through an entire battalion of Templars as they made their way through Therinfal, each one of the Templars showing increasingly horrendous stages of red lyrium corruption.

"Maker's balls, Bartrand…" Varric muttered to himself. "You just couldn't leave well enough alone…"

"What was that?" Solas asked, mentally blasting a squadron of Templars over the battlements.

"Nothing, Chuckles."

"Lord Herald!" a voice called from the side. Agronaak turned to find Barris running over to him. Everyone tensed, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong with the man; he looked a bit horrified, in fact. "I am so terribly sorry, Lord Herald! I swear to you I did not know what events were unfolding here; I've not been here too terribly long. I wish to stand by your side as you fight against these monstrosities." Barris gave a crisp salute. Agronaak merely snorted and waved for him to follow them.

There were a fucking lot of Templars in Therinfal. Like, the entire Maker-damned Order was there. Fucking literally. And only a minimal amount remained uncorrupted. As the group of motley heroes progressed towards the keep, an increasing number of hulking, bloated monsters with red lyrium jutting from their backs in spikes appeared, shrieking hellishly.

"They put Geldauran to shame." Solas remarked before turning one of the behemoths into an ice sculpture.

"Who's that, Chuckles?" Varric asked.

"Terror incarnate." Solas replied calmly. Blackwall cleaved a Templar from hip to shoulder with his axe.

"Sounds like an interesting bloke." He said dryly.

Eventually, after much more fighting and a few more saved Templars, the group reached the bottom of a rather impressive set of stairs. The sky, sunny enough when they had arrived at Therinfal, had since clouded over and a light drizzle had begun. It was one of those drizzles that wasn't hard enough to cause any lasting wetness, and mostly served to irritate Agronaak. He was rather fond of his hair.

The stairs really were quite large; so large, in fact, that Agronaak couldn't quite make out what was happening at the top of them. However, there was a sinister sort of humming, a vibration that permeated his being; he knew that feeling from somewhere else but he couldn't quite place it. All he knew was this: whatever the source of all this trouble was, it was located at the top of the stairs. At the top of the stairs stood Lord Seeker Lucius, surrounded by another battalion of the Red Templars, some of which appeared to be hissing.

"Lord Herald!" Lucius barked at him. "Your efforts are futile. My Templars shall purge this world of mages and establish a new order!"

"Somebody's been drinking…" Varric said in a singsong.

"We're about to be attacked by a fanatical cult, and that's all you can think?" Blackwall asked. "Maker, are you ever annoying…"

"Blackwall, what the fuck," Agronaak spat, "are you so upset about? Honestly, man, your temperament reminds me of a spoiled child. What is Varric's fun to you?" He turned back to the Lord Seeker, who looked rather miffed at being briefly ignored/ "What was that, Lucius, about purging the world of mages? I find it rather hard to believe you shall be purging the world of anything when so many of your men have been killed by the five of us."

"Insolent mortal!" Lucius snapped, his voice going shrill. "You will learn to respect your betters!" As if on cue, actually, it was on cue, Agronaak felt that he was suddenly losing consciousness before he and his companions crumpled to the stone steps, their minds drifting to the Fade.

Agronaak's eyes snapped open and he sat up suddenly, turning his head sharply from side to side. He was… somewhere. It took him a moment to realize that it was a cell not unlike the one he'd woken up in in Haven all those months ago. Although it was… off. Everything that wasn't right next to him was shrouded in black wisps of smoke, and faint whispers echoed in the shadows.

"Herald, did I hear you properly?" Josephine's voice asked as she stepped into Agronaak's view along with what appeared to be… him. The other him looked the same, although he was completely covered by the black smoke, his eyes burning through like hot coals.

"Of course you did. Execute them all." His voice said as he passed the cells.

"Lord Herald Zarihn was just confused, I'm sure-" Josephine started to say.

"He was not confused!" His voice howled at her. "He was plotting to betray me. Or perhaps you are as well. Would you like to join Commander Rutherford in the crow cages, Ambassador?"

"N-no, my Lord Herald!" Josephine told him, terrified.

"Or perhaps I should turn you over to the soldiers like our former Spymaster." Agronaak mused. "They had such fun with her, as I recall…" Josephine shook her head fervently.

"I… I will assist you however I can." She told him. He let out a low, rumbling laugh and rested his hand on her shoulder as she fought the urge to shrink away.

"Relax, Ambassador." He said, patting her on the back. "There is much to be done, and we don't want to end up like Seeker Pentaghast."

"No, my Lord Herald. Anything but that."

"Hey!" A voice that was unmistakably Zarihn's echoed from one of the cells, although it was hoarse and he sounded as if he'd been crying. "Hey, you, you twisted-horned, heartless bastard! I'm talking to you, shitbird!"

The false Agronaak slowly turned his head towards the source of the sound, a twisted smile coming onto his face. He slowly walked out of sight and Agronaak scrambled to his feet, not wanting to miss a second. He hadn't entirely figured out what had brought him to this place and knew that finding his way out should be his top priority, but he was overtaken by a morbid curiosity - he had to see how this ended.

Zarihn, or at least a recreation of him, was standing in a cell next to Agronaak's, gazing at the thing with intense hatred. He didn't seem to have been in there for too long yet, but there was a slight sunkenness to his cheeks that wasn't normally there, and his eyes were puffy - definitely crying, then.

"Listen here, you moronic shit-for-brains excuse of a Herald!" Zarihn snapped at him, still as fearless and tenacious as ever. "When I get out of here, I'm going to rip off your head and shit down your neck! You will pay for what you did to her, you bitch-born monster!"

The other Agronaak merely laughed, leaning in close, his eyes glowing brighter. "Oh, is that so? You're going to escape and kill me, is that it?" He began to laugh, first a small chuckle, quickly building into a booming guffaw that echoed throughout the chamber. The laughter suddenly cut off as his hand shot forward and grabbed Zarihn by the shirt collar, smashing his head against the bars of the cage. "I'm so afraid…" Zarihn spat in his face and sneered.

"Better men than you have tried to kill, or to break me. They're all dead, or being fucked over by a wild bereskarn." He snarled at him.

The false Agronaak chuckled again. "I'm sorry, my dear friend, but I just don't… see that happening." In a flash, Agronaak had unsheathed a knife from his belt and plunged it into Zarihn's eye, wrenching a scream from the elf. The apparition slowly removed the knife, twisting it as he went, and slowly licked the blood off the blade. He released Zarihn's shirt and let him crumple to the floor.

Agronaak watched with rapt horror as this all unfolded, almost unable to comprehend what had just occurred. Josephine was on the verge of sobbing. The scene suddenly vanished, dissolving into black mist.

"I'm sorry about your friend." A quiet voice said from the corner of his cell. "He seemed nice before they brought him down here. But… that was too much. Like he was all plaster and pins inside. Broken, like an old vase."

Agronaak whirled around and found… well, he wasn't sure. A young human male, perhaps twenty years old, with kindly features mostly hidden under an inconveniently large wide-brimmed hat. He was very thin and spindly, dressed in simple clothing, like a commoner. He didn't seem to have any weapons, though, and if he were actually a threat Agronaak supposed that the time to attack would have been while his back had been turned. "And… who might you be?" he inquired.

"My name is Cole." The boy told him. "Or, it was. Maybe it still is. I'm not entirely sure. But I want to help. I know where your friend is. And when. And where you are."

"I'm… sorry?" The human, Cole, spoke rather oddly, unlike anyone he'd ever met before. "You know where my friend is? Do you mean Zarihn? What is all this? Where am I, if you know?"

"Your friend is in Haven. Both in the Fade and in Thedas. You're there now. In the Fade. Envy made it, and he rules it." Cole replied. "You're here until you can find a way out. And I can help."  
"Well… alright," Agronaak said hesitantly. "I suppose I've not got any better bet finding my way out, hmm?"

"No."

Agronaak was a little surprised at the bluntness of the answer, but, well, he supposed it was true. "Er… show me the way then." Cole grabbed him by the arm and nodded slightly, the black smoke around them growing rapidly for a few seconds before it disappeared, leaving the two of them in Haven's courtyard, now turned into a fortress.

A gallows and an executioner's block had been set up in front of what used to be the tavern and Inquisition soldiers surrounded it, all stern and unsmiling. Black stone towers dotted the walls and a corpse decorated each one. From left to right, it was Dorian, the Iron Bull, Krem, Blackwall, Solas, Vivienne, Cullen, and Varric impaled by a spike in his head. A large cross was dug into the ground in front of the gates, upon which lay the dessicated remains of Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast, seventy-eighth in line for the Nevarran throne, as was carved into her stomach. Leliana was standing off of the execution platform, wrapped in a bear pelt and nothing else, shivering and looking scared out of her wits, any traces of the stoic Spymaster gone from her mind. Sera was standing on the execution platform, scowling defiantly as she was shoved down onto the block by Agronaak as he hefted his sword.

"Kiss my arse, you cock-gobbling bitch." She spat at him, furious as ever.

"Oh, but don't you remember? I've already done that. And much more. You whore."

"Ugh, just get on with it, before being around you too long kills me outright." Sera spat at him. A small metallic clink came from the other end of the stage.

"I'm afraid it won't come to that." Zarihn said as his manacles clattered to the platform. He let out a primal howl and ran at the false Agronaak, catching him off guard and shoving him onto his back, pulling knife free from his belt and bringing it up into the air, pausing for a second as realization dawned on him. But his stunned state of mind didn't last long as he drove the knife into the phantom's chest repeatedly, about to bring it down for the ninth stroke when a crossbow bolt pierced his chest. His breath caught in his throat and he dropped the knife back on the platform before tumbling off of it. Sera dove for the knife as if her life depended on it, because it did, and drove it into her own chest, laughing maniacally. Zarihn slowly crawled across the snow, leaving a trail of blood and wood splinters behind him as none of the guards dared to fire again. The false Agronaak stood up and scowled, storming off of the stage and driving his boot into Zarihn's back, over the crossbow wound and snarling.

"I'm sorry." Zarihn said, looking up at the cross with his remaining eye. "I'm so-" He was cut off when Agronaak's sword rammed through the back of his throat, silencing him.

"Your friend lived a bad life." Cole said softly. "But you did too. Neither of you let it show. You're like boxes. He made his box seem pretty and interesting, covered in gold and shiny. It made people want to know what was inside, but not enough. You… you're like a crate. Plain, wooden, unremarkable. You made yourself that way. So no one would ask. So that you could stay locked in a cupboard and forgotten. So no one would ask you, and you wouldn't ask yourself what happened to the sister with her long black hair."

Agronaak snapped his head to the side. "My… how do you know about that?"

"You're like a box. But I can open the box. It's easy for me. Sorry." Cole said this all so simply, so matter-of-factly, that it chilled Agronaak somewhat. He hadn't thought about her in years, mostly because there wasn't much to think about. He'd been very young, but he did remember that she was older than him by something like a decade and was very pretty and had this wonderful hair…. He used to love playing with it.

Agronaak shook himself out of his reverie. "I think we should continue on, Cole. Right now. No talking about her… please."

"If you want to know her, after this, I can tell you." Cole replied, grabbing his arm again. "But there is yet more to see."

The black smoke rose again, and Agronaak and Cole appeared in an area that Agronaak knew all too well. It was the Arishok's sanctum on Par Vollen, where he had once received his orders. Screams and war cries could be heard outside, and a battering ram was being slammed into the steel-bound door of the Sanctum.

"Arishok. We must flee. The fortress has fallen." One of the many guards surrounding the Arishok said.

"No." The Arishok intoned, bunching his fist in his white cornrow hair, devoid of horns. "I will not leave my land to this Inquisition. I learned something a long time ago than you should learn today, soldier." He slid on his helmet and lifted up a white steel greatsword from where it leaned against the wall. "I learned what it meant to be truly courageous. And I learned it from one better than myself. A bas, no less."

"Arishok-"

"Come Asala." The Arishok said to his sword as the door splintered. "For our friend who brought us together again." The door broke down and Agronaak stormed into the room surrounded by Inquisition soldiers. "Nehraa kadan! Ataash Qunari! Anaan esaam Qun! Nehraa Qun!"

The scene dissolved again, but after a few seconds, nothing new arose from the mist. Agronaak looked at Cole but was shocked to find that he was no longer next to him. Something was deeply wrong.

A growl of rage echoed around him, followed by a loud, hoarse voice: "The pest is removed. He cannot reach you for now."

"And who might you be?" Agronaak called out to the void. "Envy, is it?"

A hiss was all he got in response. "Envy, yes, Envy, envious, need more, more, MORE. I took the Templar first. He was strong. He could fight. He could control some forces. But that's not enough, boring, boring, boring, why stop there when I could have more?" There was more hissing. "So I brought you here. Here I have the power. But this… this… Fade, you call it, insubstantial. I can't do much outside of it. But you… you are in the real world, you have power there, power Lucius could not hope to have. He had envy too. Of you.

"So you're here, and now you cannot move in the real world. I will take you over. Lucius will be dead. And so will you. But your body? No. Mine. It will be mine. The world? Oysters."

"... Oysters?"

There was a pause. "No, wait, my oyster? Stupid mortal expressions."

Agronaak was thinking hard, straining to come up with an explanation for everything he'd seen. This was Envy's corner of the Fade, and he wanted Agronaak's body, so…

"Those visions I saw… those are things that will happen if you take over my body?"

He was met with a faint cackling. "If, he says. If. What 'if?' How will you be leaving? You're stuck. Cole, stupid name, he is dealt with, there is no one here but you and-"

"Me." Cole cut him off, appearing suddenly in a flash of light as the smoke scattered back into wisps around the corners of the room. "Run. And don't open the doors."

Agronaak decided it was probably best to listen to Cole, whatever he was, and took off down the only way he saw: a long corridor with a faint white light at the end of it, lined with what looked to be a couple dozen doors in total lining it. As Agronaak sprinted full-tilt past the doors, he felt oddly drawn to them all, as if opening them would be a wonderful course of action. He could hear laughter in one, the creaking of a bed frame behind another one, and… rushing water, bubbles?

"Vast nakaal Arishok. Ost Qun dast thuriim." A voice echoed from inside one of the doors, calling him to take his place as Arishok, and lead his people. He managed to make his way past that one, just barely, and stopped at the next one, his blood running cold.

"Get back here!" A melodious voice called, giggling. "Mother's done making dinner!"

"Grrrr!" A tiny, prepubescent voice growled. "I am a mighty warrior! None may command me, or they shall face my horns!"

"Oh, get back here, you." The female voice said. There was a slight commotion and then laughter spilled out from behind the door.

"St-st-stop!" The small voice called out, gasping for breath. "I am -haha- a-a warrior! Release me! Fight me like a man!"

"But women don't fight, remember?" The female voice said. "Besides, I think this is more effective anyway.." A fit of giggles erupted from both parties

Agronaak was so entranced by the sound that he almost didn't catch himself with his hand on the doorknob. It also helped that at that precise moment an unearthly howl echoed from somewhere far off, followed by the sounds of some sort of conflict. Agronaak was thankful for Cole's handiwork and sprinted off down the rest of the corridor. The light was getting brighter, brighter, the Envy demon was screaming, a single tear trailed down Agronaak's cheek…

The next thing he knew, he felt far more… solid than he had before, something he hadn't noticed until now, and was lying on his back yet again, in a far different place than he'd been before - he seemed to be off in a side room in the Therinfal keep. Shaking his head and sitting up, he thought he could hear the ever so slight sounds of people bustling around a little ways away. He struggled to his feet, still groggy, and made his way out of the room. It was lucky that his weapons and armor had not been removed; it seemed that Lucius, or rather the thing pretending to be Lucius, had not expected him to wake up.

Aside from the one noise, Therinfal was eerily quiet. All the Templar guards he had seen were now nowhere to be seen at all. The torches flickered ominously, and yet Agronaak felt strangely chilled.

The commotion was coming from a set of large double doors, finely engraved, at the end of a corridor that was wider than most. Agronaak figured that this was the main hall of the keep. Easing the heavy wooden doors open as quietly as he could, Agronaak was relieved to find several dozen Templars with no traces of red lyrium taint. Upon further examination, he even saw Solas in the corner polishing the gem at the top of his staff. "Solas!" he called, prompting everyone in the area to jump into a combat stance and draw their weapons before they realized it was only him.

"Try not to give us all heart attacks." Varric teased, looking up from Bianca. Blackwall grunted before turning around and starting to shore up the wooden barricades by the other doors.

"Yes, Lord Herald?" Solas asked, looking up from his staff. "Something you need?"

"I'm… sorry?" Agronaak intoned, incredulous. "Why are you all so calm? What happened? Did Envy not send you to the Fade as well? What has happened that we are now under siege?"

"Calm down, Rivaini," Varric said. "Chuckles here busted us out."

"Indeed I did," Solas said, nodding. "The demon was not aware that I had spent so much of my time in the Fade, and I was easily able to figure out a way to circumvent its magic. From there, 'busting the rest out,' as Varric puts it, was a relatively simple matter. You, on the other hand, were another case entirely; the magic it placed on you was many magnitudes stronger than that which had been placed on the rest of us."

"Gave us quite a scare, you did," Blackwall called from the barricades. "Tossing and turning, like you was having a ruddy nightmare."

"So you placed me in a random side room?" Agronaak inquired.

"Yes, well, I suppose we did. Sorry about that. Didn't have anywhere we could set you down while we worked on the defenses."

Agronaak was still not satisfied. "May I ask why you, Solas, the apparent Fade magic adept, did not do more to help me wake up? Surely you did not just try for a few minutes and then give up, stuffing me away in the equivalent of a, of a broom closet?"

"Agronaak…" Varric said, "You were asleep for ten hours. Solas spent five of those trying everything he could think of to bring you around. At some point he had to stop spending time on that and come help with defending the hall. You're tough, and we hoped that you might… power through."

Agronaak gazed at Varric in shock. "Ten hours? Ten?" He couldn't believe it. "It only felt like minutes, fifteen at the most…"

"Well that's how most dreams work, Rivaini," Varric said, his tone faintly condescending. "Now come on, Barris wanted to talk to you as soon as you woke up."

"Lord Herald!" Barris said, sprinting over to Agronaak. "Thank the Maker you awoke! We need your help, and quickly!"

 _'Well of course they do,'_ Agronaak thought bitterly, but quickly shoved the resentful thoughts out of his head. He'd never had those kinds of thoughts before, but now was not the time for introspection. "What's the situation, Barris?"

Barris stopped them near one of the barricades. "As you can see, we… well, we're under siege. It's been going on since an hour or two after you and your friends fell unconscious. The amount of these corrupted Templars - 'Red Templars,' we've taken to calling them for shortness' sake, or just 'Reds' - stationed in the Redoubt is astonishing, far more than the number of uncorrupted ones. We started off holding them back well enough, but eventually we ran out of rested soldiers, and we started losing ground. All but this section of the keep and the entrance courtyard have been seized by the Red Templars.

"Now, normally we would have put up a better fight, but the Reds started out in control of the lyrium stores; lyrium, as I'm sure you know, is what keeps us up for such extended durations, and also what fuels our unique powers. Without more lyrium, our fighting capabilities are more or less halved.

"To make matters worse, several of our veteran Templars didn't get the order to fall back through some mishap or another, and they and some of our best soldiers are surrounded by Red Templars - they are the best of us, but they're still just men; they can only hold out for so long. So, Lord Herald, if you've not guessed it yet, we would like you to-"

"Venture out into enemy territory and bring back lyrium, as well as rescue the veteran Templars?" Agronaak said, cutting him off. "You have 'got it,' Barris."

The Templar seemed surprised by how willingly Agronaak agreed to the task. "Yes, uh, well, alright. Go, uh, go on then. And please, don't dawdle too much; these barricades aren't the best, and we will likely need your assistance in combating the Reds - oh, and there are also demons." Agronaak fixed him with a blank stare and Barris shrank slightly beneath it. "Just... thought I'd add that there. Use the ladders in the corners and climb out of the hall that way."

"How very considerate of you, Barris." Varric said, patting the Templar on the back. "You'll have to excuse the Lord Herald. He's a bit shaken up."

"To put it lightly." Blackwall grunted, scaling the ladder.

"And what would it be if we put it heavily?" Solas mused.

"Oh my- Solas, just shut up."

"Solas," Agronaak said. The elf turned his head. "Why? Why would you say those words?" At this, Solas just shrugged and began climbing the ladder.

The four of them slowly fought their way through throngs of Red Templars on their way to the storerooms, Solas doing his best to make more and more bad jokes, much to everyone's disapproval.

"Maker fucking damn it, Solas, can you think of no other attempts at humor?" Blackwall asked as he severed a behemoth's head.

"I don't think he knows how to!" Varric quipped as he speared two Templars to a wall with a bolt from Bianca.

"You are all so bereft of humor this afternoon!" Solas said exasperatedly as a behemoth exploded into millions of shards. "Or at least good humor. You laugh at Varric's quips and sarcasm, but as soon as I try to introduce you to the fine art of wordplay, you lose the capacity to even smile!"

"It's not - GRAH! - so much that it's not clever, Solas," Agronaak grunted, wrenching his sword out of a Templar's chest. "We're all just a little - hnngh - stressed at the moment; not much of our brains are working towards appreciating the - HA! - humor. Plus, we're all used to Varric making wisecracks, while you sit snootily in the corner-"

"Pardon me?"

"You know what I'm talking about. But that's not the point. You never make jokes. Maybe we're not quite sure how to process jokes coming from an egg like you."

"... So you don't enjoy my… yolks?"

"YOU DID NOT JUST FUCKING UTTER THOSE WORDS YOU PIECE OF SHIT," Blackwall howled, whirling around.

"Oh dear, it seems he's… cracked."

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Not too long later, Agronaak returned with the lyrium and the veteran Templars, just in time to fend off a wave of Red Templars. Dozens of the Chantry's former faithful threw themselves upon the barricades against men they once called brothers, and were brought down on their blades as Agronaak drove forward past the barricades. A massive wall of red lyrium was erected in the back of the keep that would've lead out to the vista looking over the wild, and it was there that the demon had fled.

"Wasn't it supposed to be all-powerful?" Agronaak asked as he shoved a behemoth to the ground with his shield before driving his sword through its deformed skull.

"Not necessarily!" Solas called, shattering a group of Red Templars. "Envy demons are particularly strong, but far from invincible! It's likely that he's scared of all of us!"

"Probably just you, Rivaini." Varric said from behind the barricade as he fired a volley of bolts into the crowd of Templars beyond them.

"That sounds like a logical reaction!" Barris said from where he stood with his comrades. Agronaak grunted and knocked a Templar out a window with his tower shield.

After fighting far too many Red Templars, the red lyrium barrier was finally destroyed, and Agronaak sprinted out onto the vista, where a man who was definitely not Lord Seeker Lucius stood.

"How much rage must you have that you see it necessary to ruin my plans?" The Seeker shrieked at him.

"It's not about rage." Agronaak intoned. "I saw what you would have done to this world. I saw more death than was ever meant to be. I saw my friends… tortured, beaten, and harmed far more than anyone deserves. Except you, perhaps."

"You will be unable to stop me! Dead or alive, I will take your body, and your friends will suffer!" Lucius yelled at him as he exploded in a flash of green light, replaced suddenly by an enormous, ten-foot-tall, monstrosity that stood on two legs and had four long, spindly arms. It's face was covered in long, dark red scars that crossed over each other.

"Is nothing we do ever simple?" Solas asked with a long, tired, sigh.  
"If it was simple, then we wouldn't be the ones doing it." Blackwall pointed out.

"Shut up. There'll be time for talking later." Agronaak snapped at them, charging into battle and roaring a wordless battle cry. The demon shrieked and sprinted to meet him, lunging for him with it's four clawed arms.

Agronaak flew into a rage more powerful than anything he had felt before. He wanted to make this... thing… feel pain like nothing else. His sword moved almost of its own accord as it severed two of its arms while his companions fought the Red Templars who threatened to ambush them. Agronaak rammed his sword through the demon's chest and pinned it to the ground, jumping on top of it and letting go of his blade. He fumbled for the creature's lost limbs and picked them up, bludgeoning the howling abomination with the severed arms as its unearthly shrieks grew louder, its black blood spurting everywhere. After he decided he'd had far too much of this monster, Agronaak dropped the arms and wrenched his sword free of the demon's torso and rammed it between the scars on it's face, and Envy was silent once more.

"Maker's breath, Agronaak…" Blackwall muttered as he looked over at him.

"Ellasin selah…" Solas muttered, looking somewhat horrified. For once, the cocksure grin on Varric's face was nowhere to be seen.

Agronaak was shaking as he slowly got back to his feet - so badly, in fact, that he had to sheath his sword and shield for fear of dropping them. He tensed as he felt a hand on his shoulder, relaxed when he realized it was only Solas, but shrugged it off all the same. His mind had become deeply clouded during the encounter with the Envy Demon, so much so that he barely registered the ferocity and brutality with which he had fought it. Had it really been necessary to… to beat the thing with its own limbs? What purpose did that serve? He already had the loyalty, at least for the time being, of everyone present. What had come over him?

"I… am sorry you had to see that," Agronaak said, attempting to steady his voice. "It was… excessive."

"Yeah… we're fine, big guy." Varric said, hiding behind Blackwall for good measure. "Just remind us never to get on your bad side."

"Lord Herald?" A Templar whose armor denoted him as a Knight-Captain asked. "What are we to do? With the Lord Seeker gone, we've no leadership." He shifted uncomfortably. "We… trust you to make the right call on the future of our order. You just saved it, after all."

"Ah yes, I suppose that is correct," Agronaak mused. He paused for a moment. "... Well, first, one might think that Knight-Templar Barris has done an astounding job at organizing the defense of the Great Hall, and should be awarded some sort of administrative position; obviously nothing as high up as Lord Seeker, of course, for there are many whose experience leaves them much better qualified for such a position or one of similar status. Secondly, I do not believe it would be wise to let the Chantry lose such a valuable force for policing and subduing mages-" Solas' brow furrowed deeply at that, but Agronaak could not bring himself to care at the moment - "-and so I think it is in everyone's best interests to keep the Templar Order alive and well.

"In addition, I would like the Templars to formally enter an alliance with the Inquisition, to the extent that your forces may be at our beck and call whenever necessary. I do not wish to sound… aggressive, but… you owe us somewhat for saving the last uncorrupted members of the Order."

"I would agree wholeheartedly." Barris said as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "Your decision is no doubt wise and prudent, Lord Herald."

"Thank you, Lord Herald." The Knight-Captain said, bowing. "You are most gracious.

"We should have been left to discuss this amongst ourselves." Solas muttered darkly.

"You've made a smart choice, Rivaini." Varric said. "Don't listen to Baldy over here."

"Perhaps it might've been taken into consideration, but I believe this may be for the best." Blackwall said sagely.

The four of them left Therinfal several hours later, after some much-needed recuperation time and doing what they could to help get the redoubt back in working order - most of the work was corpse removal, which they all found to be a great shame. As they rode away under a clear night sky and a full moon, Agronaak couldn't help but feel like something indescribable had changed deep within him since his encounter with the Envy Demon… and he wasn't sure he liked it.

 **AN: Oh, lawdy, that's a lot of sad and awful stuff. Really sorry about that, but it was definitely good, I think, to explore darker stuff with this fic in addition to the humor and sass, and I think this was a very well-written chapter. I assure you, there will be lots more sadness where this came from. Sorry again, and I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review if you liked it, or if not, feel free to offer constructive criticism. Until next time!**


	11. Chapter 11: Unfriendly Differences

Zarihn and Agronaak arrived back at Haven around the same time as each other, with their respectful forces in tow. They got along well enough when they met up at the gates, but when they each found out how the other had procured these forces at a meeting Josephine had set up, they got along markedly less.

"You fucking did what?" Zarihn yelled in the war room. "They're Templars! They left the Chantry to wage a private war that they started, you can't just turn them loose!"

"I stand by Lord Herald Agronaak and his decision." Cullen said, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword. "The Templars require freedom, and they didn't start this war, First Enchanter Orsino did. You can't judge us if you weren't in Kirkwall, Zarihn."

"I fucking can and will judge you, because I was there too!" Zarihn snapped at him. "A year before the Champion defended those mages, I watched the injustices they endured, Commander."

"Zarihn, don't you see?" Agronaak said, annoyed. "Mages are dangerous. Orsino ended up becoming the very thing he was trying to convince everyone the mages weren't. Surely you cannot support those who decided that that man was their best bet at a leader. Why, under the Qun-"

"Oh, and I should support those who thought their strongest leader was a raving lunatic who tried to murder her own soldiers?" Zarihn asked, crossing his arms in an attempt to look intimidating. "She ended up as a fucking statue, Agronaak. And I don't give one single shit what the Qun says about mages, because I already know it. You'd have them all muted, chained, and castrated. Just try that on these mages. See how far you get."

"I have met a great many mages in my day." Leliana chimed in. "Most of which were better people than I. I stand by Zarihn, and I won't let any harm come to these mages."

"Leliana, you can't just let them roam free." Cassandra said. "They're far too dangerous."

"Zarihn," Agronaak growled, prompting the elf to turn towards him. "I… do not appreciate your attitude towards the practices of my people."

"That's funny, because I don't appreciate you treatment of mages, whose only crime to you was existing." Zarihn said, scowling. "They're still people, Agronaak. The only reason they comply is because you indoctrinate and torture them into believing it's their place in the Qun. I know, because people have tried to do the same to me."

"They don't know what they're doing, Zarihn!" Agronaak said, his voice rising. "All throughout history, so many bad things have happened because of mages. They cannot control themselves; they always want more, more, more. The Blights, Zarihn, were started because of the arrogance of mages! The Qun is not willing to risk something so awful as that. The Qun allows for no exceptions because what if that exception is the exception that will damn us all? I've seen entire platoons wiped out by a group of novices! That level of power can't go unchecked, and since the Qun has no power here, the Templars are what is necessary."

"You want to talk about history, Agronaak? You want to talk about why those platoons were wiped out?" Zarihn asked. "Let's compare. Sure, bad things have been caused by mages, but infinitely more bad things have been caused by man's own rage, his greed, and his fear! Atrocities have been committed in the name of quelling magic, subduing rebels, and even your precious Qun! Your predecessors put hundreds of thousands to the sword when they conquered Seheron and Rivain! More Rivaini natives died during the Qunari invasion than died during the Fourth Blight, and the entire fucking Blight was fought in Rivain! Those platoons you've seen destroyed were destroyed because your people insisted on taking Thedas with cannon and steel rather than words! So fuck your platoons! They've only got themselves to blame for their deaths! Themselves, and your precious Qun."

"You will not speak ill of the Qun in my presence again," Agronaak intoned. He was starting to shake like he had at Therinfal, and he knew that he should really remove himself from this situation before things got out of hand, but Zarihn was dismissing his entire system of belief. One didn't just walk away from that.

"Oh, is that how this works?" Zarihn asked. "As soon as I remind you that you've done something bad too, you just shut down? I see how Qunari are renowned for being so stalwart. I've seen things you wouldn't believe Agronaak. I've seen the worst of every race and every country, and every fucking denomination of any group of poor people that this fucked up world has to offer. So don't you sit on top of your precious Qun and act like your shit doesn't stink while you pretend to be all high and mighty."

Agronaak should have left. He should have just left when he had the chance. This wasn't about the mages anymore; this was a personal attack on Agronaak and everything he believed in. He wanted to speak but words failed him. Instead he gave a wordless bellow and flipped the entire ten-foot long war table over, causing Zarihn to jump to the side and push Cassandra out of the way, even though the table just fell on him instead.

"I'm… I'm sorry." Zarihn said, managing to crawl out from under the table. "We're not the same and I need to try and respect that."

Everyone was shocked by Agronaak's response, but none more so than he himself. He was getting his breathing and shakiness under control, all the while contemplating what in the hell was wrong with him. Ever since the encounter with Envy he'd been so... short. This was a very personal matter for him, obviously, but he was a leader of the Inquisition, and was not prone to bursts of rage besides. "I am sorry as well," he said heavily, ashamed of his actions. "I agree; this part of Thedas is not my part of Thedas, and things are done differently here. I need to understand that. I cannot... cannot force the Qun on a bunch of Fereldans, Orlesians, Nevarrans... I'm terribly sorry."

"Perhaps we should consider the Qun to be like a phallus. It's wonderful that it exists, but it's best that it not be shoved down our throats unless we wish it." Zarihn suggested, back to his old jokes.

Agronaak laughed lightly at that, though still a little hesitantly. "Heh, yes, perhaps that is for the best. To… to each their own, that's what it was." Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen, all tense and worried a few moments before, relaxed visibly as a fight was seemingly avoided.

"If we could move on to the business at hand?" Josephine prompted.

"All I know is that I wish I had a drink at hand right now." Zarihn said with a sigh. "Perhaps we could continue this later today, Ambassador?"

"Do you only ever think of alcohol?" Cullen asked.

"No. I also think about that sweet arse I know you're hiding under that armor." Zarihn replied, smirking deviously, prompting a short bark from Agronaak as he bent down to pick the war table back up, as well as a reluctant smile from Leliana. Zarihn noticed that she was glancing back at Agronaak every few moments, but decided not to interfere with whatever was happening there. "Cassandra, care to join me for a drink?" He asked, looking over at the Seeker expectantly.

"I would love t- wait a moment." Cassandra said, catching herself. "You almost just got into a brawl with the other leader of the Inquisition and you're asking me to go out for a drink with you?"

"I think it'd be nice to talk about it, and I think I can trust you." Zarihn told her, surprisingly truthful.

At this, Agronaak felt a strange urge to go out for a drink with someone as well. Not Cassandra, obviously. He turned towards Leliana. "Erm… Sister Leliana? Would you care to accompany me for a drink?"

Leliana seemed rather surprised, as if this were the exact opposite of anything she'd expected to have happen, but Cassandra noticed a slight twinkle in her eye; she'd have to remember to talk to the Sister later - and perhaps Zarihn as well, if the conversation went in that direction. "I… I would be honored, Lord Herald," Leliana said, cautiously, as if she were afraid Agronaak might rescind the offer if she responded too eagerly. He gave her a small smile. "I suppose we'll be off soon, then. You two go on ahead."

Zarihn and Cassandra left the war room, the former much more calm than the latter, while Agronaak and Leliana dallied for a time. Upon exiting the Chantry, Zarihn claimed to be a bit too cold, and laced his fingers through Cassandra's, and the unlikely pair walked through the snow-lined paths of Haven hand in hand on their way to Zarihn's quarters.

"Did you wish to talk about something, Lord Herald?" Cassandra asked, still formal even though she was relaxing somewhat.

"Must two people always have something to say to one another?" Zarihn asked in reply. "I simply wished to spend time with you. There's hardly any opportunity to do so during meetings. And I must insist that you call me Zarihn, my dear Cassandra."

"I appreciate the gesture, Lord Her- Zarihn." She corrected. Cassandra smiled faintly, the scars on her cheekbones lifting slightly as she moved a bit closer to him.

"Although I did wish to speak with you." Zarihn said, chuckling softly. "I must admit that I expected you to have run me out of the Inquisition by now."

"Why would I do such a thing?" Cassandra asked, raising an eyebrow at him curiously.

"You and I hardly see eye to eye on most things, fair Seeker." He pointed out. "In fact, you have more in common on your views of mages with Agronaak than you do with I. Not to say that I am complaining to be in your company, of course."

"Well… I find you to be a fascinating individual." Cassandra stated, although her tone implied there was far more to it than that. "Throughout your life, you have overcome apparently insurmountable trials and ordeals, and from what I've seen you are… quite kind at heart. Most who faced what you have might've ended up rather poorly."

"You give me far more credit than I deserve." Zarihn said, laughing his same carefree laugh as he walked into his quarters.

"You give yourself far too little credit." She retorted, sitting down in one of the few chairs next to Zarihn's desk. Zarihn's smile faded slightly before he picked it up again, walking over to what appeared to be a wine rack built into the wall, and it had definitely not been there before.

"Now then! How about that drink, Cassandra?" He asked, looking through the bottles. "Ah, here we are." He pulled out a rather new looking bottle, its label written in elegant, flowing script. Zarihn walked to Cassandra and handed it to her while he went to get a pair of glasses.

"Porta Fibonaccia, 9:12?" Cassandra read, raising an eyebrow. "One doesn't often date Nevarran firewater."

"You know your whiskey, I see." Zarihn remarked, smiling as he walked back over with the glasses. "You are correct, however. But when it comes to an alcohol of this caliber, the creation of it should most certainly be documented." He set the glasses on the table and took the bottle from her and poured only about half of what was usually served. "Buena fortuona, Cassandra." He said, handing a glass to her. She let out a low, melodious laugh and took the glass from him.

"Trying to charm me with remembrances of my old home?" Cassandra asked with a wry smile. She took a sip of the whiskey and coughed once, a bit surprised at its potency. "Nevarra has few comforts, Zarihn."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not the case." Zarihn said, waving dismissively. "When last I visited, I greatly enjoyed myself. Magnificent architecture, native fruits, beautiful women…" He trailed off, smirking again. "...of which you are the most beautiful, of course." She let out a rather uncharacteristic, nervous laugh as her cheeks flushed from something other than the cold and the alcohol.

"Now you're the one giving too much credit." She said, drinking more of the whiskey.

"Seeker Pentaghast," Zarihn started to say as he drank half of his glass, mockingly horrified, "were you not just the one who told me I didn't give myself enough credit?" She laughed again, more naturally this time. "If I deserve more than what I say of myself, than you deserve infinitely more than that. For whatever I might be, good or bad, I can scarcely compare to you."

"Flatterer." Cassandra said, still blushing slightly as she set her glass down. "But… thank you, Zarihn."

"It's not often that people thank me for telling the truth." Zarihn told her, placing his glass on the desk and leaning closer to her, his hand resting on the side of her left arm. She raised an eyebrow, but didn't stop him, curious to see where it would go. He very carefully pressed his lips to hers, just the barest touch, really. Cassandra smiled against his lips and parted hers, kissing him back with a bit more passion, albeit not that much.

Agronaak and Leliana's drink, however, was shaping up to be very different. The walk to the tavern from the keep was honestly a bit awkward. Agronaak wasn't entirely sure why he'd decided to ask the Sister out for a drink in the first place; he was never much for alcohol (besides Carnal), and he honestly didn't know what the two of them might talk about. They walked a fair distance apart from one another, occasionally glancing to look at one another and offer small smiles, with few words exchanged. Agronaak normally thought Cullen's foofy fur cloak to be gawkish and impractical, but he had to admit that chain and plate did little to block the wind - nor did they stay warm for very long. He suppressed the urge to shiver.

Agronaak and Leliana both let out a sigh of relief, unheard by the other party as they stepped through the doors of the tavern. It was warm and cozy, with a musician strumming her instrument pleasantly in the corner and dim conversation going on all around them. Taking seats at the bar, the two of them turned towards one another and gave another awkward smile.

"So... " Leliana began. "I… am not entirely sure what we should talk about," she finished, laughing nervously. "I must admit that your asking me to accompany you for a drink was not exactly something I had prepared for."

Agronaak shifted uncomfortably. "I will admit to the same. But, well, you are already out here with me, and the atmosphere is pleasant. We must at least make an attempt to have a nice time, wouldn't you agree?"

Leliana relaxed a little bit. "Yes, I suppose I do. So, er, tell me, Lord Herald… What is your favorite color?"

Agronaak cocked his head to the side. "My favorite… color?"

"Yes! You know, the one you prefer! I personally love a lighter, softer shade of blue, I think that's my favorite. Though I've always had a soft spot for a really mellow yellow…"

"I don't think I have one," Agronaak interjected, causing Leliana to open her mouth in mild surprise.

"What, you've just not got one?"

"No. I just said that."

"But how old are you, thirty-eight, forty? You've gone four decades or so with no favorite color? How'd you just… just not get on that line of thinking?"

"I think it is because of the Qun," Agronaak replied. "There is very little weight placed on the color of things in everyday life. Of course there are some artists, and the buildings of Par Vollen are stunning, but aside from that… we do not care. What is a grey shirt compared to a green shirt, really, for example? Their color does not change their feel or their size or their design, and their purposes are the same. The only change is what light is absorbed and what light is reflected off of them."

"... Sorry, what was that last bit?"

"Oh, simple physics, quantum mechanics, not important to this discussion. The point is that color outside of an artistic context is essentially meaningless, so no one much cares."

"That's so odd, though!"

"And investing emotion in a particular shade of blue or yellow isn't?" Agronaak absentmindedly cracked his neck. "It's a matter of perspective, is all." He motioned for the bartender to come over and ordered himself a glass of Carnal, while Leliana opted for a more tame plum wine.

"Er, speaking of perspective, Lord Herald," Leliana said cautiously, taking a small sip of wine, "I was hoping we might talk about the altercation you and Lord Herald Du Rien had several minutes prior."

At this, the faintly contented look on Agronaak's face melted away, replaced by a rather grim expression. "Ah, yes, that." He took a gigantic swig from his glass, draining most of it in one gulp. "I notice that you stood with Zarihn on that issue. I hope our differences in perspective do not lead to conflict between us. That would be most unfortunate."

"No, my Lord Herald, of course not!" Leliana said, a little too quickly. "I wouldn't dream of… that is to say… I would hope that something like that would not cause a rift between us." She took a larger sip than before. "You're not the first Qunari I have worked closely with, Herald Qun'Maloc. I once knew a man, very dark brown skin, white hair, his name was Sten - no, that's not right, he was a Sten, of the Qunari forward defense force, I think; most of you don't have 'names,' per say, I remember. But either way, he was much less… open than you are sometimes, very committed to following the Qun. I never saw him drink, he might have smiled once in the year I knew him… and he was very anti-mage.

"But it wasn't anti-mage, not exactly, you know? He just seemed shocked that we didn't keep our mages locked up and castrated. It was such a foreign concept to him. I don't think he had anything particularly against the mages at a personal level, it was just that-"

"That the Qun taught him that way," Agronaak interjected. "Exactly! It is not a personal issue. We are taught that this thing, it is the way of the world. Most of us have never seen a mage, let alone met one, and if we did see one, they were being carted off somewhere, surrounded by guards. Everything around us pointed to mages being meant to be subdued, and our historical teachings - and we have very extensive historical teachings, believe it or not - did not exactly paint a positive picture of mages either.

"You Thedosians… you are all so different. There's this whole movement down here about how mages should be free, should self-govern, that there is no need for orders like the Templars to keep them in check, and that is completely foreign to any notions I was brought up with. That is why I decided to keep the Templars around. That, and the fact that they're excellent warriors…" Agronaak finished his Carnal and waved the bartender over for a refill.

"And what of you? What makes you dislike mages so much? You've seen them outside of Par Vollen now, and yet you still fear them." Leliana pointed out, swirling the wine in her glass. "Do the mages here not provide a better example?"

"Yes, well, I was hoping you would ignore that part…" Agronaak said, smiling glumly. "My personal feelings towards mages did not factor into keeping the Templars, I assure, you, but yes, I am not fond of them. My dislike stems from… personal reasons."

"Oh?"

"Oh."

There was a pause as they considered what to say to one another. In the silence, he found himself recalling a now distant memory. A memory of his sister.

He sat in a field of tall grass, the jungle trees of Seheron all around the field's edges, and his sister sat across from him, holding a ball of fire in her hand.

"Woah… how did you do that?" Agronaak had said, looking at the fire in his childhood wonderment.

"I dunno." His sister said, shrugging and tossing back her hair. "I did it yesterday and showed mom and dad. It was an accident, but I think I know what to do now."

"Be careful with it." Agronaak told her, hugging his knees close to his chest and pushing his stubby horns outwards, as if to protect himself.

"Relax, silly." She said, closing her fist and making the fire disappear. "I told you I could control it."

"Lord Herald?" Agronaak was startled out of his memory by Leliana's voice.

"Ahem, yes, my apologies," Agronaak said, still slightly distracted. "They're very personal reasons, Sister Leliana. I… would prefer not to speak of it. Please."

"Lord, Herald, with all due respect, I am the Inquisition's spymaster, a member of your innermost circle. Surely I of all people am someone you can speak-"

"No, Leliana," he said, more sharply than he wanted to, shocking her into silence. Seeing the look in her eyes, he softened, and sighed. "I don't tell anyone about it. There is literally not a single soul alive today that I have spoken to about why I dislike mages. Please respect my wishes on this topic." Leliana nodded slowly, relaxing, and Agronaak's shoulders sagged. "I apologize for being short. It was inappropriate."

"No, I shouldn't have pried." She said reassuringly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You know, I had another friend like you once. Never liked to talk about himself, or… herself, whatever. She acted like she had a skin of stone, which… well, I mean, she did... but she was a complex person, just as I know you are."

Agronaak wasn't sure how he felt about the hand on his shoulder, but he decided he'd just let it stay there. "Er… thank you, Leliana, for the kind words. I am glad you find me so interesting." He smiled again, and before Leliana could muster a response, Cullen burst into the tavern in a hurry.

"Lord Herald, Sister Leliana, you must come quickly!" Cullen said, out of breath. "There's… there's a boy in the Chantry. He just appeared in the war room."

Meanwhile, Zarihn was trying to get Cassandra into bed, but of course it wasn't his ordinary mannerism he used. Cassandra was still special to him, obviously. He sat on the edge of his bed with her next to him, the two of them kissing passionately, but in no hurry to move on. Zarihn's cloak had been shed and his chainmail laid on the floor next to his daggers. One could hardly make love properly in armor, and believe me, Zarihn's tried. Cassandra's plate mail had been discarded some time ago, and Zarihn's fingers toyed with the laces on her tunic. He was so close. This fucking close. And then Agronaak walked in.

"FUCKING HELL, AGRONAAK!"

"Oh! Shit! I am sorry."

"You couldn't… you couldn't have just… for the…" Zarihn was understandably pissed, while Cassandra was more embarrassed than anything else. "Fuck it, the mood's been killed. Let's go, Cassandra." He grumpily bent down and shrugged his chainmail and cloak back on. "This is the second time, Agronaak."

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry, Zarihn-"

"I don't even want to hear it. You could make a fucking living off this…"

"Zarihn, perhaps we should just move on…" Cassandra said, walking out of the building. Zarihn watched her go and pointed out her rear end to Agronaak.

"Do you see? Do you see what you made me miss?" Zarihn asked angrily. "Can you even fathom how hard it is for me to postpone sex?"

"Zarihn, I'm sorry. Sex is incredible. But we've got something of an emergency. Well, I wouldn't call it an emergency, per say, I think I know who it is-"

"You know what is an emergency? Me having blueballs for the foreseeable future!" Zarihn snapped. "Let's just go, you fucking chaste oxen…" He brushed past Agronaak and stormed outside, screaming internally. Agronaak hoped this would not increase tensions further.

As Agronaak suspected, it was Cole. He was surrounded by guards who looked very confused as to how to respond to the boy who had just appeared in the room. He stood there, looking oddly calm for someone with half a dozen swords pointed at him. He was clad in the same clothes as he had been all those weeks ago. Dorian was standing nearby, awestruck, and Josephine looked like she had shit a brick.

"Where is the Herald?" Cole asked, looking around curiously. "And not the small one with his happy little sadness."

"What?" Josephine asked, confused.

"I think he might be a spirit of some sort." Dorian informed her. "Either that or he's rather insane."

Cole looked towards the entrance, saw Agronaak standing there, and immediately dematerialized, only to reappear several feet away from where he was prior, near Agronaak. "Herald," he said calmly. "Hello again. I hope you remember me. Sometimes I make people forget things when I don't want them to."

"Er… hello to you too, Cole," Agronaak said slowly. "How… may I be of service today?"

"You can let me be of service. Like I want to be. Like so many others want to be, but can't. They're scared, and I want to make them less scared." Cole told him cryptically. "I'm here to help, little bull. I could help control the fire."

Leliana noticed Agronaak's stunned expression and her brow furrowed. "So I take it from your words that you wish to join the Inquisition in some capacity?"

Cole seemed slightly annoyed with her. "Yes. I want that. I can make people less scared that way. But I was talking to the Herald, not you, Sister Nightingale." His knowledge of her name shut her up.

Agronaak decided he'd best keep talking. "Well, Cole, what exactly do you have to offer the Inquisition?"

"I can help you help people. I can heal people, or… I can make them forget. Or I could kill them, if it helps the other people." Cole explained, although he said the last part a lot quieter. "I want to help, Herald."

Agronaak was silent for a moment. "Well… Cole helped me in the nightmare I experienced when we fought the Envy Demon. I'm not sure what the full extent of his powers is, but he was capable of breaking through the magic the demon had set up even when Solas could not. I do not know if I would currently be alive, were it not for him, and he really does seem bent on helping… I rule that he may join the Inquisition." Cole smiled, though he did so awkwardly, as though his face was not accustomed to it.

"Lord Herald, surely you are not simply going to allow him to join the Inquisition without a more thorough questioning!" Josephine chimed in worriedly. "His powers are not fully known, his origins a mystery… how can you be sure this is the correct choice?"

"I have made my decision, Lady Josephine," Agronaak said sternly. "I… trust him."

"You trust him?"

"Josephine, if you had been in that nightmare, seen the things I'd seen, and Cole had helped you escape, I think you would see him in a very similar light to mine. I vote he stays." His words echoed with such finality that Josephine simply bowed her head. "As you wish, Lord Herald. I do not agree, but that is your choice."

"And I have no say?" Zarihn asked from the doorway, which he leaned against in a very evocative pose. "Not that I disagree, I just thought I should've been consulted."

Cole turned to look at him and his eyes widened in something between admiration and horror. "You've been telling lies, Herald." He said quietly, his eyes boring into Zarihn. "Not the whole truth did you tell, and part of your soul you hid."

"My my, aren't we a nosy little spirit?" Zarihn asked evasively. "Perhaps you need to look a bit closer, Cole, because anything I hide, I hide for a reason."

Everyone in the room was completely silent as Cole looked into Zarihn's eyes, as if weighing his very existence. "I see." He intoned, blinking twice. "You've seen more than most, with your ancient young eyes." Cassandra moved closer to Zarihn without thinking about it and he grabbed her hand, holding Cole's gaze. Eventually, the kid looked away. "There are indeed reasons. I think maybe these reasons should be just yours." Zarihn nodded.

"So is that it then?" Dorian added. "The boy is with us now? I suppose that's not too bad; I've never lived with a spirit, after all. I'm sure Solas is going to have boatloads of emotions about this development."

There was a commotion from just outside the door, and Fiona and Barris both burst in a few moments after, looking very flushed, as though they'd run quite a ways. "My Lord Heralds!" Barris said tiredly. "Apologies for the sudden interruption, but we've important news about the Breach."

"The mages and Templars you brought back to Haven with you have had time to rest and recuperate some, and should be at full capacity after a good night's rest. The mages will be able to channel their mana, and the Templars their willpower, to assist the two of you in closing the Breach." Grand Enchantress Fiona told them, bowing her head politely at Zarihn but looking at Agronaak with a bit of fear.

"Glad to hear it." Zarihn said, grinning at her. "Perhaps we can finally be rid of all these demons, then."

"Somehow I feel like things are never that easy, Zarihn," Agronaak said with a half-smile. He looked at Barris and Fiona. "So, what might be the earliest time we can begin the journey up the mountain?"

"Within a few hours, Lord Herald." Barris said, allowing himself a wry smile. "With luck, we can close the Breach with our first attempt at closing it, so long as the mages hold up their end."

"You should worry more about your Templars, Knight-Captain Barris." Fiona said curtly, scowling at Barris, who simply scowled right back and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

"You two shouldn't fight so." Zarihn remarked, his ever-present smirk returning. "People might talk."

Barris paused for a moment before loosening his grip on his sword. "My apologies. If there is nothing else to be discussed, I shall go and inform the men of the upcoming march."

"I shall do the same for the mages, my Lord Heralds," Fiona said, trying her best to avoid Agronaak's gaze while still looking at him. It made for an interesting display. Agronaak really couldn't blame her, however, what with his two and a half-foot height advantage and the fact that he was a Qunari. And quite frankly, she'd probably had sex with Zarhin. Quite frankly everyone had probably had sex with Zarihn.

"I… suppose I should go attempt to get some sleep," Agronaak said. "It is probably better to attempt to close a gigantic hole in the sky after at least a few hours. I suppose I'll see the lot of you then." Leliana made a sort of squeaking sound, as if she'd wanted to say something but caught herself, to which Agronaak raised an eyebrow, but she merely gave a short laugh and acted like nothing had happened. Zarihn knew exactly what was going on, but elected not to say anything for the time being, choosing instead to simply smirk at Leliana, who he had also slept with. Obviously.

Agronaak departed the keep a few minutes afterward, moving towards his and Zarihn's shared accomodations. The temperature had a fallen even more since his last walk through the streets not an hour ago. It was bitterly cold out now, and he fought the urge to shiver. Looking down at the ground, Agronaak could see his own footprints from earlier, next to two pairs of much smaller prints. Hoping no one was watching, he amused himself by trying to step exactly where he'd stepped before and make no new imprints on the snow. As he reached the house and entered it, he sighed at the warmth of it. He removed his clothes and armor and put on a pair of pants more suitable for sleep, and set about un-doing his hair. Partway through he realized that he'd simply have to put it back up again at daybreak or perhaps even sooner, but it was easier at this point to finish what he was doing. His stunningly white hair, already rather long when done up, trailed down to almost the middle of his back.

"You know, you really ought to wear it down like that." Zarihn said from his desk, where he sat with his elegantly tapered boots up on the table. He draped one muscled arm over the side of his armchair, apparently having foregone the use of a shirt. His chest and stomach were marked with dozens of different scars and burn marks, and a few marks along his forearms that looked self-inflicted. He smirked at Agronaak and tossed back his wavy blond hair, lifting a glass of some miscellaneous alcohol with his left hand.

Agronaak was a little tense, having not heard Zarihn come in, sneaky bastard that he was. He absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, thick and ever so slightly wavy near the ends. "You… think so? I don't know, I feel like you are one of very few who likes it better down." He quickly unstoppered a flask sitting on his desk and took a swig.

"It looks quite nice, I assure you." Zarihn said, putting one foot down on the floor and bending the other at the knee in an evocative pose. "And I think you might need larger undergarments."

Agronaak rolled his eyes. He yanked out a lock of hair that had gotten caught up on one of his horns, which were dark and mostly straight, with a slight downward bend as they approached the tip, and golden rings near the base and tip of each. Near the base were two smaller protrusions in addition to the main horn, which was where the hair had gotten stuck. "Larger undergarments, you say? These are standard-issue Qunari breeches, fitted based on a survey taken once every five years on average genital length and girth among males. Surely you don't think that I am that large?"

"Oh, but you are, Agronaak." Zarihn told him, his grin widening. "You ought to get them tailored. Perhaps tailored by a beautiful girl who performs more than her job requires. And if those breeches are fitted for the average Qunari length, the others must be in a sorry state."

"Oh, by the Arishok, Zarihn! You really think that I would find someone this far south who's even willing to tailor a Qunari, let alone a beautiful female one who's feeling 'horny?' What are the chances?" Agronaak was trying not to smile now, intent on maintaining a neutral expression, but it wasn't working quite as planned.

"I assure you, my very well-endowed compatriot, that there are far more horny Orlesian women that you could possibly fathom." Zarihn said, setting his glass down and walking over to Agronaak. "And men, if that's your purview."

Agronaak's eight-foot frame gave a slight spasm as he held in a laugh. "I'm not sure my engaging in intercourse with a man would be… medically advisable." He gave a slight cringe at the thought. "Surely you of all people understand, Zarihn.

"Perhaps it had best be avoided, lest you split some poor man in half." Zarihn said, laughing at him with a charming smile, the tattoos on his left cheek quirking up slightly. "Although lubrication does exist."

"There is not enough lube in the world. You southern people are so… narrow."

"Not all of us. I think you'll find a few to be somewhat… stretched." He said, before walking away and turning back to his desk, leaning over it and actually looking at the map on the table. While he meant to be showing off his ass, he was really only showing off the scars on his back, most of which appeared to have come from a whip.

Agronaak felt a little awkward, but he was painfully curious. He tried to approach the situation carefully. "I… don't mean to be rude…" he said, "but… where did all the scars come from? There are an awful lot of them all over your body. I of course also have scars-" he motioned to a few marks along the purple-gray expanse of his chest and back- "but those all came from battle wounds… and one very temperamental nug. Er… what are yours from?"

"Well, this one came from a fight I lost with a cave bear." Zarihn told him, gesturing the claw marks down his chest. "The whip lashes are from the corporal punishment instituted by the former Arishok before his untimely demise at the hands of Marian Hawke. The burns are from a few different things. Most are from my unfortunate encounter with a high dragon, the rest are from when I saved the Archon of Tevinter's daughter from a manor fire as well as from her maidenhood. And the cuts and scrapes are from innumerable battles." He hadn't bothered to mention the cuts on his forearms. Agronaak had an idea of where those came from, and he wasn't sure that was a topic he wanted to discuss.

"Your life seems almost nonsensically rich with intrigue and adventure," Agronaak mused. "How do you find yourselves in all these situations, if they truly happened? The sheer level of them boggles the mind."

"'If they truly happened'?" Zarihn asked, feigning horror. "You wound me deeply, Agronaak. I haven't lied to you about any of my tales. Omitted some, yes, but that's simply because I wish to save the best for last."

"And when might 'last' be, pray tell?" Agronaak inquired, adopting a mock accusatory tone. "When might these last great adventures be revealed to ignorant old me? Must I pass some sort of test?"

"You've already passed every test posed to you. I suppose it's just left for you to wonder and wait." Zarihn told him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Perhaps I'll tell you after we seal the Breach, but not a moment before."

"Bah," Agronaak said, waving Zarihn away jokingly. "Fine. Keep your air of mystery. Is there something else you would like to discuss? I was originally intending on sleeping, you see." He gave a small smirk at that. He supposed it was pretentious to laugh at your own jokes but he didn't particularly give a fuck.

"Sleeping?" Zarihn asked, confused. "You don't… you don't get the dreams?"

"No…?" Agronaak said, frowning. "I don't recall. What do you mean?"

"Dreams. Nightmares, more like. About the Conclave, and… about your past." Zarihn explained vaguely.

"Well, maybe once or twice, but they were far apart, and were not recurring in any way…" Agronaak was growing concerned. "Do you think it has something to do with your mark?"

"It might. I mean… it seems a bit odd… more than it normally would." Zarihn said, looking at his right hand curiously. The mark on his palm was sort of jagged and twisted, black, almost, and it ran up past his wrist and along his forearm, cutting across the older scars than were already there. Alarmed, Agronaak lifted his left hand and examined his own mark - aside from the expected slightly green tint present when he was this close to the Breach, nothing changed since he'd gotten the thing.

"I think it may definitely have something to do with your mark, Zarihn…" Agronaak said, unnerved. "Mine is fine, and I have no recollection of nightmares. Do you think you should have Solas look at it?"

"I find that the irritable little egg knows more than he lets on, so perhaps that might be the best course of action." Zarihn remarked, regarding the mark as one might regard a corpse.

"Are you able to sleep at all?" Agronaak asked. "Surely you must be able to, else you'd literally be dead from sleep deprivation."

"I sleep when I am able." He replied, letting out a tired sigh. "And I suspect that at this point, my lust is the only thing that sustains me."

"Your lust could sustain all of us by itself." Agronaak told him with a reluctant laugh.

"I'm hoping it will sustain Cassandra." Zarihn quipped, winking at him.

"I'm honestly unsure how that woman is even alive anymore, what with the seemingly complete lack of sexual activity. I think it might be the blind hope." Agronaak couldn't believe he was having this conversation. Zarihn laughed and strode over to his bed and flopped himself onto it.

Despite the humorous note in the air, Agronaak couldn't help but feel like there was an underlying tension in their interactions, like the smiles they put on weren't entirely genuine. "Er… Zarihn?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you think we ought to talk about our… disagreement before we go to sleep? It might be a good idea, I think."

"Discuss away, my horned friend." Zarihn said, draping one arm over his eyes but listening intently. "I still maintain my earlier predilections, however."

"That… is understandable. And I maintain mine… to an extent." Agronaak struggled with how to word it. "I… do feel as though mages need to be contained, but… I sometimes forget that the way the other races regard mages is vastly different from my own. Your society is so grossly different from my own, and your personal experiences with mages differ greatly from my own. You have known them, been close to them, formed friendships with them; in the Qun one does not socialize with mages at all; you know how they are regarded. I do not think it possible for me to share quite the same views as you no matter how long I spend down here."

Agronaak shifted uncomfortably. "There are also personal reasons for my dislike of mages. I… am not sure if I should tell you of them, however."

"Then I'll respect that. Although if you want to tell me, I'm here to listen." Zarihn offered, smiling reassuringly.

"It is just…" Agronaak shivered. "I have not told anyone about this. It is not the kind of thing that you simply tell people, you understand. It is very close to my heart. But…" Agronaak paused again. He really should stop doing that. "it is probably not healthy to keep this thing bottled up over the past, I don't know, thirty-plus years. Maybe it is time to tell someone."

"What is it, then?" Zarihn asked, sitting upright and crossing his legs. "Not to sound too eager, that is…"

"Oh, no, it is alright. It is my own fault for making it sound so 'juicy.'" Agronaak smiled. "Well… I think I shall tell you. Here we go… my sister was a mage, you see. And from what I could tell, she was rather good at what she did. Her powers started to manifest around the age of sixteen, and she showed it to me. I, being a decade younger than her, thought nothing of it. I just thought it was a cool trick that she could do to entertain herself and me.

"It seems to me, however, that either my sister had somehow never seen how mages were treated, did not realize that she was a mage, or simply lacked solid judgment, because her great mistake was telling our parents about her powers, and even summoning fireballs in front of them to prove she was not making stories up…. Nothing happened for a while, and our parents never mentioned it in front of us, but one day there was a pounding on our door and it was the… the secret police, I suppose that's what one would call them. They stormed into my sister's room and pinned her to the ground, gagged her, bound her hands and wrists… I wish I did not have to see it.

"The worst part is that she was so afraid. I looked into her eyes, wide with panic and terror, and saw the betrayal in her eyes when she looked over at my parents, pleading, begging for them to do something, anything, to help. And they didn't. Their expressions were flat - vaguely sad, if you looked closely, but flat. I tried to make a move but my father held me back with a hand on my shoulder. I was stupid - I still don't know what I thought I, a lone boy, his horns barely coming in, could do to interfere with the efforts of five fully armed and armored guards.

"They brought in a large cloth, bound her arms to her sides, then wrapped that cloth in steel chains before forcing her out the door. I was… screaming and crying and trying to charge forward but my father simply picked me up by the collar of my shirt and held me there as she was shoved into the back of a cart and rolled off. Her screams were muffled, but I could hear them just fine. The cloth covering her mouth was wet with her tears. She wasn't even fully dressed yet.

"You have to understand, my sister may have been the single most benevolent soul to ever walk Thedas. She was smart and kind and a wonderful sister, and if anyone might have used magic responsibly, might have been entrusted with free use of it, it would be her. If they could view her as a threat… then what truly awful creatures mages must be. If she had to be put in chains, taken away, rendered infertile, then surely every last mage deserved nothing less than the same." Agronaak was shaking now, and a light sheen of sweat had formed on his brow. "So… that is my story."

"I'm… I'm sorry to hear all of that." Zarihn said softly. He was silent for a moment before he stood up and walked over to Agronaak, reaching up and resting a hand on his shoulder.

Agronaak smiled faintly. "Heh. It is alright. It happened so long ago, and I have met many a mage who was utterly undeserving of my ire. It must be somewhat my fault at this point in my life. But I just, I just cannot fully let it go. I didn't even get time to say goodbye or anything, you know?"

"I know, Agronaak. People seldom do." Zarihn told him, removing his hand. "And… if you don't mind me asking… what was her name?"

"Demera," Agronaak said softly. "Most Qunari don't have 'names,' per say; my family was unique that way. And hers… was Demera. I always thought it was such a pretty name."

"It is, I think. 'Demera'. Perhaps you can name one of your children after her." Zarihn said, smiling again.

Agronaak gave a small chuckle. "Children, you say? I think that that obstacle is more terrifying than the largest of high dragons. But… yes, perhaps I shall."

"Well, I suppose we'll have to save the world first." Zarihn said, flopping back down onto his bed.

Agronaak strode over to his bed and sat down on it. "Yes, perhaps that is smart. What is also smart, I think, is attempting to go to sleep now. What say you?"

"I think that may be one of the points we agree on." He mused. A wry smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, stretching the smile wrinkles that he already had for so young an age.

"Excellent," Agronaak said, lying down and throwing his covers over himself. "Goodnight, Zarihn. Sorry again. See you in a few hours."

"Goodnight, Agronaak." Zarihn replied, his smile vanishing as soon as his eyes were closed.


End file.
